Harry Potter and the Silent Siege
by swishandflick14
Summary: Lord Voldemort has finally found a way to break Dumbledore's old magic and gets to Harry Potter at Privet Drive. However a plan that would have involved Ginny Weasley's destiny with the Boy Who Lived and her own haunted past gets to him first. RH, HG.
1. The Burned Down House

_Chapter 1_  
_The Burned Down House_

_The village of Little Whinging, Surrey, only had two real fire engines; one had already been called out when the cook at the Great Palace restaurant had been a little too lavish with the cooking oil for an order of Kung-Pao chicken. Henry Middleton was therefore not terribly happy when, on an unsually balmy night in late August, the claxons sounded again. Little Whinging's fire force was mostly volunteer to begin with and only a smattering a men now crowded around a small TV in the corner, laughing over a comedy about an overbearing housewife, obsessed with the opinions of her neighbors, and her poor lap dog husband. Henry, who saw enough of people like that in real life, threw down the Times crossword, strode over to his men and snapped his fingers angrily in their faces:_

_"Oi, what's the matter with you lot?"_

_Most of the men, tired of false alarms and wrong numbers wrought by the ever-increasing proliferation of mobile phones with automatic emergency line dial up, grudgingly got their feet and prepared to man the remaining engine._

_"What if there's another call while we're out?" asked Frank Sedgwick, a burly, mustached fireman who seemed to have the end of a cigarette butt forever sticking out of the end of his mouth._

_Henry drew himself up to Frank and widened his eyes. "Well, we'll have to make it quick then, won't we?"_

_Frank responded by turning around and maneuvering his frame up the side of the ladder staircase. Henry drew himself behind the car and Lance and John got into the driver's seat. The engines and sirens roared to life and the Little Whinging fire fighters rode off into the night, narrowly missing Mrs. Winters and her cocker spaniel who had just elected to make a convenience stop on the pavement outside the station._

_It took little more than five minutes before the fire engine approached the neighborhood of its destination. Another block in the endless row of identical-looking semi-detached houses that had just been strung up all around the edge of what had once been a village. With all the growth and sprawl in Little Whinging, thought Henry to himself, you'd think we'd at least be able to get another engine. Henry didn't want to think too much about politicians, however: it just made his head spin and blood pressure rise rapidly. Calm down, his wife would say, you've enough to worry about as it is; there's no use going on about what can do absolutely nothing about._

_The image of his wife lecturing over her half-moon sunglasses carried Henry through to the entrance to the neighborhood at which the call had been made. This street was normally as respectable as it was banal. House after house: town houses, he supposed they would call them, perhaps that's what the American developer would have preferred, with neatly kept lawns, the obligatory lines of rose bushes neatly cropped outside the wire-cut front windows. Lance took two wrong turnings (Henry struggled to keep his temper in check; after all, it was he who had just been thinking how much they all looked alike) before they finally came upon a neatly kept white and black sign that read: PRIVET DRIVE._

_On this evening, this orderly image was disrupted, however, by a flock of neighbors, headed by a crowd of children that had gathered around a house near the corner. Henry had thought it a good sign that they hadn't seen any smoke from the nearby roads. He had doubted whether there had been any fire at all and conjured up the image of a suburban couple, the husband in tweed and polo shorts and the wife with her hair in rollers fretting over a pot roast that had disturbed an overly sensitive fire detector._

_He was not prepared for the devastation that met his eye from a fire that had clearly already burned itself out._

_The engine finally stopped along the side of the road. Seeing that this was no false alarm, Lance and John quickly pulled down the fire hose while Frank and Stewart put on their gas helmets and ran toward the front door. It was Henry's job to get as much information as possible and that was clearly not going to be forthcoming from the people inside the house. He approached the silent crowd of neighbors: he was used to this; people always came out to see what was going on. Henry could see couples, dressed much as he had imagined, many with little children running distractedly in circles around their ankles, peering like vultures on the remains of their neighbor's house, lest some minutia of potential gossip escape their attention._

_On this occasion, however, in keeping with the level of the devastation that met their eyes, the neighbors were unusually quiet. Still, Henry caught bits and pieces of muttered conversation as he walked over._

_"'Damndest thing I've ever seen this," croaked one elderly gentleman._

_"Mind you," added his middle-aged female neighbor, in a toffee-nosed tone not unlike that of the woman on the television program, "they were a bit of an odd lot."_

_"I dunno," added a man in his thirties, dressed in a green and white Tottenham rugby shirt, and sporting an out-of-place Yorkshire accent, which seemed to make his neighbor wrinkle her nose up further at the very sound. "Seemed 'alright. Was in drills, wasn't he?"_

_"Never bothered us much," agreed his wife, a woman with curly blond hair and too much make-up for Henry's liking. "Mind you, there was that day a few years back when they had a whole load of barn owls all over their roof and garden; right strange if you ask me."_

_"Must have put too much bread out, then," replied the husband, "weren't anything."_

_"There was that nephew of theirs." The toffee-nosed women had re-inserted herself into the conversation. "Bit queer if you ask me. I mean that in the OED sense of the word, of course," she quickly added as several of her neighbors turned their heads, eager to refute any mention of the contrary in this neighborhood. "Straggly, unkempt, glasses always crooked."_

_"They didn't treat him right if you ask me," the Tottenham rugby shirt replied. "Always wondered if I oughtn't call in the social workers, I did." He suddenly drew himself up to full height, as if very pleased for thinking the idea._

_"You's the one that said you thought they was 'alright," replied his wife._

_The rugby shirt shrugged._

_That was the end of the conversation as far as Henry was concerned; it was then that he came to within walking distance of the crowd. A lanky boy, of about fifteen or sixteen, with dark brown hair met him halfway. He looked as if he had seen a few scrapes and could get a bit mean if he wanted to, but now he was more terrified than anything._

_"Please, sir," he said to Henry. "Is there anything I can do? My best mate was in there."_

_"That's what I'm here to ask," replied Henry, trying to sound confident and in command. Authority always reassured people at a time like this. He tried to sound a bit more like the newsman on the telly. You had to sound the part if you wanted the respect in these parts, his missus would say. "Does anyone know who was in this house at the time of this here... eh," Henry looked back at the carnage, "er... accident?"_

_"My best mate, sir," offered the boy a second time. "And his parents. And, er," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I think his cousin."_

_"Four people," said Henry. "What does your mate look like then?"_

_The boy described a boy slightly shorter than himself and much more heavy-set, with bright blond hair, his father, slightly taller, with a similar frame, and his much shorter mother. Only when prompted by Henry did he describe the cousin as about his own height and build._

_"Did you see them in the house at the time of the fire?" asked Henry._

_"I don't rightly know, sir, you see..."_

_"It was right odd, sir," the rugby shirt spoke up again. "The whole place was standing one minute and then it just seemed to smolder from the inside; ain't think I'd ever seen anything like it and I was in the Gulf and all."_

_"And then these green things shot up into the sky," the boy added quickly, "think they must have been fireworks or something. You can still see them up there."_

_Henry looked behind him to see the bleeding green remains of what seemed to be an exploded firework hanging in the sky just above the house; he wondered why they had not seen it on their approach from the truck; it must have been behind a tree. He'd never seen fireworks hang like that for so long as if there was something still keeping them up there: and the image they displayed. The green fireworks made a horrible face, like a skull, with a snake-like twisting line stretching out from what would have been the tongue. Henry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up as he looked at it._

_"Steady yourself, mate," he said to himself. "You've got to show some leadership to these people."_

_He turned around to look at the boy in the eye, forcing himself to appear calm and in command of the situation. "What's your name, lad?"_

_"Piers, sir. Piers Polkiss."_

_"Well, Piers," Henry replied. "We'll find your friend, now don't worry."_

_Piers nodded weakly._

_Henry turned his attention back to the remains of the house. He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt at that moment, because there seemed in fact little hope for the lad's portly companion if he had indeed been inside. It was the oddest thing he had seen in almost twenty years of service: the house itself had been burned almost to a blackened crisp; only small wisps of smoke curled around what remained of the now gutted interior. Yet the garden itself remained untouched, down to the perfectly kept rose bushes in the front lawn. It was if someone had deliberately annihilated, with painstaking accuracy, only the rectangular lot of the one house, which, unbeknownst to Henry, was precisely what had happened. Even more amazing was that the adjacent semi-detached home was itself completely unscathed, down to the perfect red brick wall that had been shared between the two properties: its bewildered occupants were now standing unscratched on their front driveway._

_Number 3 Privet Drive was left spotless but there was little left of what had once been Number 4._

* * *

_Ginny Weasley was lying in the Chamber of Secrets._

_She stared up at the cavernous ceiling of the chamber, its roof extending far into darkness. Somewhere nearby she could hear the death groans of the Basilisk growing ever fainter. Nearer still she could hear the shuffling of feet._

_"It makes no difference," said a voice. "I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter. Just you and me."_

_It was Tom Riddle's voice. And the person he was talking to was Harry. Ginny realized that it was she who had made him come down here. It was she who had opened the Chamber of Secrets. And just as Tom had said he would, Harry had come down after her – to rescue her. And had fallen completely into his trap. It had all been Ginny's fault._

_Harry didn't respond. But Ginny could hear his feet shuffling, stepping now and then on a wet puddle on the dank floor of the Chamber, now covered with a mixture of water, slime, and Basilisk blood. Harry had killed the Basilisk – the Basilisk that Ginny had unleashed. But now he still had to face Tom, a Tom that was growing stronger as she grew weaker._

_"So ends the famous Harry Potter," Tom continued. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. Your dear mudblood mother died to give you only twelve years of borrowed time. What a pathetic waste, and all because of one silly girl!"_

_"My parents died because you murdered them!" Harry's voice cried out somewhere to Ginny's right, breaking with effort and strain._

_Whether it was Voldemort's implication of her or hearing Harry's voice, she did not know, but it was at that moment that Ginny suddenly found the strength to roll over and sit upright. Every muscle in her body seemed weighted down like iron as she moved. Panting and heaving, she finally managed to stand to her feet. Her head immediately felt light and dizzy but she forced herself to shake it off as she lifted her head up to look Tom Riddle in the eye, the boy who had tricked, abused, and manipulated her in order to lure Harry to his death._

_Except that the face she met was not that of Tom Riddle. It was Lord Voldemort, a fully-grown Voldemort, dressed incongruously in Tom Riddle's Slytherin House robes. Something nagged at the back of her mind that something about this was not quite right but that thought was quickly banished with the cold, dark fear that came from looking at Voldemort's revolting pale complexion and snake-like red eyes. The bogeyman of her childhood nightmares was now more than a few meters away from her, his wand raised to strike._

_Voldemort ignored her. His eyes remained fixed on Harry._

_"Haven't you any last words, Harry? Your muggle mother begged and begged me not to take you, not to kill you; and now when you finally face Lord Voldemort, you have nothing to say to him?"_

_Harry remained silent, an expression of defiance shining brightly in his green eyes._

_"So be it, then," Voldemort replied, almost softly._

_Voldemort's face twisted and his red eyes seemed to bleed with hatred as he raised his wand and cried the curse that made any decent wizard or witch in England freeze to the bone._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_A burst of green light shot out from the end of Voldemort's wand. Only the light seemed to travel in slow motion in Harry's direction, passing right in front of where Ginny was now standing. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the light move toward where Harry remained standing, fierce determination hardened in his jaw. The light grew nearer and nearer reflecting the green in Harry's eyes like pools of liquid jade._

_"Finite Incantatem!" cried Harry, his wand held straight out in front of him. A beam of red light shot out and met Voldemort's just as it was creeping along to Harry. The beams locked and, for a time, Voldemort's green light seemed to move back toward him, but then its direction reversed to move once again toward Harry, while the red light emanating from Harry's wand receded further. Ginny could see that, in a few moments, it would reach Harry himself._

_Ginny watched as sweat formed in rivulets all over Harry's face. The veins in his forehead bulged with the strain of willing his curse forward. But it was no use. Ginny saw Harry trembling as the green light from Voldemort's curse moved closer to him. In a few moments, it would reach Harry's body._

_Ginny suddenly took a step forward. It was a great effort just as sitting up had been but she managed. She was even closer to the green light now and she could feel its intensity vibrating throughout her body, just as her first broomstick had felt when she'd mounted it, or the jolt she had suffered from the lamp in her father's garage when he had been teaching her about eckeltricity. She didn't dare move any further._

_"Ginny!" Harry suddenly cried. "Help me! I can't hold out much longer!" Harry spoke the words through clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving the light of his wand and the connection with Voldemort._

_Ginny tried to step forward again but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She seemed frozen to the spot, mesmerized by the light. She felt around in the pocket of her robes for her wand, but then she realized that Tom would never have let her take it into the Chamber with her. It was still lying harmlessly in the first floor bathroom, where he had told her to leave it. There was nothing she could do now._

_"What's the matter, Ginny?" Ginny froze as she heard Voldemort's revoltingly high-pitched voice, like a snake trying to speak a second language. She forced herself to look at his disgusting face which was now staring directly at her. It seemed that, unlike Harry, Voldemort was unconcerned about taking his attention away from the link of their wands, and Ginny immediately saw that the distraction had done nothing to prevent the continuing advance of the deadly green beam. The green light now lit up Harry's robes; it seemed almost on top of him._

_"Can't you save your friend?"_

_Ginny stared back at Voldemort but felt powerless to respond. She took a step back involuntarily._

_"Ginny, help, I need you!" cried Harry._

_Ginny felt as if her heart would explode out of her chest at his words. It was the very thing she had dreamed he would say but now she feared that those words would be his last. She desperately considered flinging herself into the wand's path. It was what Harry would have done for her, was doing for her._

_But she couldn't bring herself to move forward any further. The light was now fairly crackling with energy and she imagined the pain that would seer through her body when it touched her. She turned her head to Harry just in time to see the light slam into his chest. Harry let out a scream of agony as the light consumed him._

_The Boy Who Lived had breathed his last._

_Worse even than Harry's death throes was another even more chilling sound, like the cries of a hundred Dementors joined in an unholy chorus. Voldemort's chilling laugh of delight echoed throughout the chamber and Ginny forced herself to turn and look at the manic glee spreading across his face. The laughter grew in volume. Ginny stuck her fingers in her ears but the sound continued unrelenting – louder and louder still, until..._

Ginny woke up. Her arms flailed about desperately as she searched for her wand, but she succeeded only in knocking the goblet of water she had placed by her bedside crashing to the floor.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest. She forced herself to look up to the high ceiling of her room, still enchanted to look like the ripples of water from the small pond in the back garden of the Burrow, a spell her father had cast her for her ninth birthday, when the family could afford to buy little else.

The ceiling of her room. That meant she was in her bed, in her home. And then the memories came flooding back to her. Ginny blinked away the tears of relief in her eyes as she realized that Tom Riddle's plan had not succeeded; the diary had been destroyed; and Harry was still alive.

The shock of the nightmare and the excitement of the relief she felt from its passing slowly ebbed away and Ginny felt her thundering heart finally begin to slow down. It wasn't until then that she realized that her nightgown and her top and bottom sheets were soaked through with sweat. She could feel the moisture continuing to seep through the thick red hair that she had let grow below her shoulders and enchanted into long curls earlier that summer. She dug around on the floor for her wand and finally found it stuck under a pile of old socks where it must have rolled when she had knocked over her goblet.

"Lumos."

A small light emerged from the tip of Ginny's wand, enough so that she could see the disheveled blankets, half fallen onto the floor. She got out of bed, feeling the cold, damp wet of the soaked nightgown against her body and absent-mindedly flicked her wand at the sheets. The sheets and blankets neatly folded themselves into order and the top sheet tucked itself down. She next turned her attention to her clothes which, with another spell, magically dried themselves. She climbed back into bed, feeling the reassuring comfort of the soft bedclothes which she had earlier enchanted to let off a very slight smell of lavender whenever she pressed against them.

Ginny's head felt heavy and she wanted to fall back to sleep but as with any bad dream, she forced herself to stay awake long enough not to relive the nightmare. Despite the warmth of the sheets and the summer breeze blowing in through her open window, she felt an involuntary shudder. Her parents had decided that it was safer for her and Ron to remain here with Charlie over the summer while they stayed with Bill at Number 12, Grimmaud Place but Ginny could not help but feel that the darkness outside her window was just that much blacker in such an empty house.

Ginny decided that she needed a distraction. She still held her wand tightly in her left hand and raised it again:

"Accio Mr. Sunshine."

Mr. Sunshine was a Muggle child's toy that her father had come across in his work at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office and given to Ginny for her fifth birthday. Mr. Sunshine was originally a large bright yellow plastic head, with rays of sun shining out of its side, and two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Somewhere along the line Mr. Sunshine had developed a habit of floating over the bed of its owner, drawing the attention of Mr. Weasley's office and a memory charm for the frightened Muggle child and his parents. Mr. Weasley had taken a liking to the toy. Not for the first and last time, rather than returning it to its original unenchanted state, he had bewitched it further to light up and chatter in a persistently perky tone, fitting to its name. Mr. Sunshine had terrified a younger Ginny who had pulled her bed covers over her face in fright the first time she had heard it. This misfortune had earned Mr. Weasley a harsh reprisal from Ginny's mother. Over the years, however, Ginny had grown used to Mr. Sunshine even now he looked rather worse for wear. His constantly happy manner often times had a way of getting on her nerves but on this night she was grateful of his familiarity.

"Yes, Virginia?" The yellow orb wandered over.

"Mr. Sunshine, why am I still dreaming about him?"

The question surprised Ginny even as it left her mouth but that often seemed to happen when one talked to Mr. Sunshine.

"Who, Virginia?"

Ginny thought for a moment. She wasn't sure whom she had meant – Harry or Tom Riddle?

"Harry Potter," she decided.

"I couldn't say," replied Mr. Sunshine. "You must ask yourself that question."

Mr. Sunshine didn't really have a mind of his own and could say only a very few things, most of which consisted of throwing Ginny's questions back for her to ponder. Her father had deliberately enchanted him this way. He had often explained to her that most questions were those one could answer oneself with a little thought, but it was good to wonder out loud, anyway. Ginny admitted that for one with so few words, there was a lot Mr. Sunshine had taught her.

"I see. Good night, Mr. Sunshine."

"Good night, Virginia, and I must say it is a little past your bed time."

Mr. Sunshine would have to be up-up-maded, or whatever it was Muggles did with their eckeltronic machines, Ginny reflected as she waved her wand and watched him float into the corner of her room, his light slowly fading.

Ginny looked at the tip of her wand and its tiny light. She remembered how, as a child, she and her brother Ron had first learned to make their wands give off light and had spent night after summer night chasing each other around the trees of their garden playing lightning tag. She tried to focus on that happy memory as she flicked her wand once more to make the light go out and fell immediately into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Ginny would not have slept so easily had she known that at that very moment the vision from her nightmare was nary a few hundred meters from the outside of her house.

The wizard who had once been Tom Marvolo Riddle stood at the edge of a small enchanted forest that kept the Burrow hidden from the curious eyes of any wandering Muggles. Lord Voldemort watched as the distant light in a window near the roof of the Weasley's ramshackle estate was slowly extinguished. He kept his face hidden beneath billowing black robes. He had stood in the same way on this very spot for the past several hours. The most feared creature in the wizarding world had chosen this night to stand and merely watch the household of one of the oldest wizarding families, a family whose senior members had spent most of their lives resisting his inexorable conquest, a family whose younger generation had been fed a steady diet of warnings concerning his wicked crimes and miraculous demise, and had accepted the call to arms to prevent his return at a time when most witches and wizards had still slept easily in the false security of his apparent downfall.

Voldemort allowed himself the luxury of a smile. It was pleasing to know that the most powerful resistance to his rule came from a family so wretchedly impoverished as the Weasleys. Of course, now that the wizarding world was alerted to his return and the Ministry was slowly attempting to guard themselves against him and his Death Eaters in the manner of late riser blearily stepping out of bed, a few aurors had been sent to guard the Weasley home while its older generation were away with Dumbledore's pathetic resistance clique. It had been a matter of routine magic to ensure that they never searched in precisely the spot he was standing. There was nothing and no one protecting the Weasleys tonight while they slept, save for Voldemort's own practiced patience. Voldemort had learned in the days when he had not yet shed his dirty Muggle father's name that real power came only with patience and control. Even without the support of his Death Eaters, Voldemort knew that a flick of his wand could bring the Weasley's pathetic little world to a crashing end, but this was not the time. He would wait, wait until the entire wizarding world once again shuddered at the sound of his name, when every last token of resistance had been quelled, either through violence or fear, and the Weasleys were the only ones left to resist, and then he would crush them and enjoy the sweetness of complete power.

For now, Voldemort was satisfied in knowing that the Weasleys had an important role to play in his ever-expanding plans. He would use their own pathetic courage and loyalty against them. He listened to an owl in the background, hooting an insistent and growingly anxious warning to all of the sleeping animals in the forest that they were in the presence of unspeakable evil. Voldemort considered striking it down; indeed, part of him very much wanted to do so, but this, too, was a lesson in patience. It might be satisfying to kill the one dissident voice in a largely blissful and ignorant forest, but it was infinitely more pleasing to reflect on how isolated that voice was.

No, there was no one who would bother Voldemort tonight. The Weasleys themselves had no idea what stood at the foot of their back garden. For all of the school awards and trophies plied on them by Dumbeldore, none of them were possessed with the insight to perceive his presence. Unlike Harry Potter, they had no scar that would alert them whenever he was near.

None, that was, except for one.

Voldemort reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out an extremely old, cloth-covered volume. It had tears and holes from when it had once been destroyed, until Voldemort had re-enchanted it and discovered the secrets it contained. Voldemort opened it up to the first page and read the faded, blotched lettering:

T.M. RIDDLE

He paused ruefully as he considered the sixteen-year-old prefect at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry who had long ago purchased this diary, enchanted it, and trapped a memory of himself in its pages. He had been talented, very talented, and already very powerful, but he had never been blessed with the lessons of failure from which an older Voldemort now benefited. He inwardly cursed the arrogance of Tom Marvolo Riddle and the stupidity of Lucius Malfoy, who had brought him back to life. It was a threat to his plans, to be sure, but it was a threat that Voldemort himself was determined to turn to his advantage.

Voldemort felt a pleasant slither of movement around his ankles. An enormously long snake curled around his feet, its tongue flickering as it brushed its head in a horrible comedy of affection against the side of Voldemort's robes.

"Yes, Nagini," he said aloud, his own voice high-pitched and snake-like, but still in English rather than Parseltongue; he would not be giving the snake any commands yet. "We will be leaving soon. But first I must hear whether tonight's victory is yet complete."

It tried even the practiced patience of Voldemort that he must sit here on this night of all nights while he waited for others to carry out the more urgent aspects of his plan. But it was the only way he had been able to break the power of the old magic to which that great fool Dumbledore had always been devoted. He imagined the defeated look in the old man's eyes when he realized what Voldemort had finally achieved. Perhaps it would even be the burden that would finally finish him.

There was an almost imperceptible shuffling of fabric to Voldemort's immediate right. Another wizard appeared, dressed in the same plain black as the Dark Lord, his face hidden beneath the folds of his hood. Voldemort said nothing as the wizard turned to face him. He fell to his knees at Voldemort's feet and opened his robes to reveal a black mark, etched into his skin just above the forearm. Had Henry Middleton been present, he would have recognized it as the same sign that had been shot into the sky over Number 4 Privet Drive.

It was the Dark Mark. The sign that marked the wizard's loyalty to the Dark Lord. The sign that marked him as a Death Eater.

Nagini immediately uncurled himself from the Dark Lord's ankles and coiled his head at the sight of this newcomer. The wizard flinched as the snake bared its fangs and hissed angrily at his head. He imagined he could feel the curiously cold spray of its deadly venom.

Voldemort opened his mouth slowly and breathed several high-pitched sounds of an ancient-sounding language that seemed to mirror the slithering motion of the snake. Immediately, Nagini closed his mouth and returned meekly to the feet of his master like a pet dog that had just been ordered to heal.

"Rise," Voldemort ordered.

The wizard obeyed.

"Does Nagini frighten you?"

"No, no, of course not, my Lord."

The wizard took a small step back.

Voldemort curled his lips in a chilling smile. "Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Harrell, for he always knows."

Harrell stood up but did not respond. From underneath his cloak, Voldemort could see the man's eyes darting back and forth in a mixture of anticipation, excitement and fear.

"You had no difficulty walking here from the apparation point?"

"No, my Lord."

"And you were not seen by the aurors?"

"No."

Voldemort paused for a moment, watching the fear rise in Harrell's eyes as he studied him closely.

"Very well," he said finally. "I sense you have something to report."

"Indeed, my Lord."

Harrell's excitement seemed barely contained. Voldemort hoped the information had been worth the wait.

"Were you successful?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort drew in a small breath. He moved hesitantly toward Harrell who took a much larger step back.

"Are you sure; are you very sure?"

"Yes, my Lord. The Death Eaters carried out the plan as you instructed. We were not seen by the Muggles. The house was completely destroyed."

"And the boy?"

"After the others had moved in, I moved in personally to check, my Lord. There can be no mistake."

"And the Dark Mark?"

"We shot it into the sky just as you instructed, my Lord. The Muggles saw it at once but they did not know what it meant; in fact, they thought that it was some of kind of rocket, fire- fire- "

"A firework, Harrell."

"Yes, my Lord. I had forgotten – " His voice immediately trailed off.

"That I was raised by Muggles?" Voldemort's jaw set much more firmly.

"No, of course not, my Lord." A look of fright came over Harrell's features. "I merely meant that I – I – that your gift for knowledge is so much greater, so much broader than – "

"Liar!" spat Voldemort. Beside him, Nagini hissed as if on cue. "However," he continued, his expression softening slightly. "I have no interest in your memory, Harrell. Pray continue with your account."

"We did not set off the full mark, my Lord, as you instructed. Otherwise, the Muggles would have grown suspicious. The sign has already faded."

"And you were not seen?"

"No, my Lord. That is why it has taken so long for me to come into your presence. We changed into Muggle clothing and blended into the crowd. We watched the Muggle fire engine and then the Muggle police come and go. Finally, when it was safe, we returned."

"And the Order of the Phoenix?"

Harrell seemed to hesitate.

"You should tell Lord Voldemort," Voldemort cooed softly. "It is much better to say it now than later."

"There was perhaps one small thing that bothered us, my Lord."

Voldemort leaned closer to Harrell but kept his expression neutral. Fear had its time and place. As with everything else, it was a question of patience and timing. And his plan could only succeed if Harrell felt the proper mixture of fear and comfort.

"Yes?"

"Well, w - we scanned for Invisibility Cloaks as you suggested, sir."

"And?"

"There were none."

Harrell seemed to fidget and hesitate.

"I – I suppose that means they weren't there, my Lord. Th – they've missed guarding the boy b – before now."

Voldemort considered this information for a moment, before his face broke into a half smile.

"On the day before he was to return to school? Somehow I consider it unlikely the Order would have been quite that complacent. Still, I imagine it is of no consequence, so long, Harrell, as you are sure – "

"I swear it."

"I expect no less. You may go now. I will call for you later."

"My Lord." Harrell bowed and then moved back into the forest swiftly and silently.

Voldemort stared once more at the now dark and silent house. It was just as well that his plan tonight had succeeded. The Weasley girl had been too timid, as usual, to put her precious little head in harm's way. But this time, there was something that had made Voldemort more uneasy, the sense that she was growing somehow stronger, more resistant, more…. Voldemort struggled with the emphemerality of Ginny Weasley's confused emotional state. There was something there he had not been able to grasp, and it worried him.

Voldemort dismissed these worries from his mind. They weren't important now and he of all people knew how important it was not to dwell on the ghosts of the past, especially when it concerned worries that had long since proven unfounded. Still, he allowed himself a smile again; it had been almost a pity that things had gone so well to plan for if they had not, his next trap would have been even more cunning, more intricate, more slowly pleasurable, to spring.

With that last thought, Voldemort slowly unfolded his arms, and disapparated. A loud crack rang through the night air, rousing the animals in the forest and provoking the much too belated attention of the aurors.

Nagini hissed for a moment on the now empty ground and turned back into the forest to find the new trail of his master.

And almost immediately the forest quieted again. The aurors soon abandoned their fruitless search convinced like all wishful thinkers whatever the facts to the contrary that the noise had merely occurred in their own imaginations. Even the owl stopped hooting, and a deceptive calm stretched over the sleeping inhabitants of the Burrow.

* * *

Henry Middleton lay awake in bed listening to his wife breathing in and out beside him.

He envied her.

It wasn't the first time he had seen death in a career of more than twenty years and it probably would not be the last. Knowing this did not make him feel any easier. He remembered the reactions of the neighbors as they brought the bodies out, especially that tall, skinny lad who wailed like a child when they took what remained of his pal from out of the house. Still, nothing about the whole thing had made sense, thought Henry. What was that program his wife was always watching on the telly? The two American agents: the thin bloke and his red head partner. Seemed more like something he'd seen on there. He just could not get his head around how the one house had imploded while the other side was unscathed. And that firework that seemed to stay up in the sky: Henry didn't like to think.

He needn't have worried, of course. The following day he would be visited at the fire station by a short, scruffy looking man dressed in very odd clothing. The following night he would sleep peacefully, remembering nothing of what he had seen the previous day.

It was probably the bodies that Henry knew he could never forget any day. He knew as soon as he turned around and tried to sound brave to that skinny lad that he would find them there. They had been blackened, charred, hardly recognizable, and very much dead. All four of them looked like they had been crouched under the kitchen table with their hands stretched out over their cowering bodies. If Henry had not known that they had died from the fire, he would have been sure they had gone from pure fright. It was those expressions that he could not put out of his mind, try as he might. He remembered the middle-aged man, portly, with a great thick moustache, and nary the remains of a neck on his head; the woman, his wife obviously, her hair still in plastic curls that had melted on the top of her head in the flames and smoke, a simpering look of horror etched forever on her face; and the poor lad's portly companion, his hands still clasped vainly over his singed head, red with a thousand exploded blisters.

And then there was the boy: the nephew, wasn't it? He had looked different from the others: tall, skinny, with what once must have bright green eyes, as nearer as Henry could tell. And then there was that scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning, the scar none of the neighbors could explain though all them could remember.

The boy the police would later identify as Harry Potter.


	2. The Escape

Chapter 2  
The Escape

The following morning, Constable Daniel Peters of the Metropolitan Police rubbed his eyes in weariness as he listened once more to the man's story. Last night, someone had evidently forgotten to tell the Fisher's dog that mating season had finished several months ago and that barking shrilly into the night was unlikely to attract the right kind of attention. Despite having three cups of coffee this morning, Peters wondered very much whether he could make it through the day. At times, he believed it was merely a case of mind over matter but, at other moments – such as when listening to this drunk vagrant who was now sitting on a bench near a busy platform at King's Cross Station – Peters felt a crippling fatigue descend over his body, starting from his head. It was as though a blacksmith was ceaselessly pounding his skull with an anvil.

"Your name again, sir, please." Peters tried to stifle a yawn.

"I already told yeh once, guv'nor."

"Then perhaps you could tell me again for the record." Peters managed to look the vagrant in the eye, daring him to accuse Peters of not paying attention the first time.

"Barnaby. Thomas Barnaby."

"Your, er, occupation, Mr. Barnaby." Peters' eyes fell on the large plastic bag full of recyclable bottles that rested on the bench to Barnaby's right.

Barnaby moved closer to Peters so that Peters could feel a wave of noxious breath sweep over him, and said in a conspiratorial tone.

"I'm on the vanguard, guv'nor, the front lines."

"The front lines of what, sir?" Peters tried to remain as professional as possible.

"I'm protectin' us all, from them." Barnaby's eyes widened meaningfully.

"And who, sir, are they?"

Barnaby stared wide-eyed at Peters and pointed a dirt-stained finger at the sky. "Them, guv'nor. The aliens. Little-green men. They're coming, guv'nor, don't yeh mistake that; they're coming an' they're gonna take us all. There won' be a man, woman, or child what's safe in this country."

"I see, sir." Barnaby checked a box on his notebook. "Self-employed." He looked up. "And what, Mr. Barnaby, can I help you with today?"

Barnaby pointed a bony finger straight at Peters, causing the constable to take a step back in surprise. As he did so, he noticed that Barnaby was aiming ever so slightly to his left. He looked back. There were loads of people milling about, some rushing for trains, others looking around, lost, but nothing seemed to stand out in particular. In fact, it seemed that Barnaby was pointing straight at a solid wall between platforms nine and ten.

"I seen 'em," Barnaby went on. "A whole family: mother, father, two older lookin' sons what was with 'em, twins they looked like, but that's their cover, see? And another boy an' girl with 'em. Hair all flamin' red."

"Many of our citizens have red hair, Mr. Barnaby."

Barnaby gave a small sigh and regarded Peters as a teacher might a truculent pupil. "They're all dressed all funny like, like they dunno how to, which, o' course," Barnaby's eyes lit up with excitement. "They don', do they, 'cause they in't really people, at all, guv'nor, you follow me?"

Peters' eyes watered over as he tried once again to stifle a yawn.

"They're them," Barnaby said meaningfully, "pretendin' to be just like that."

"I'm not sure, sir, that I can do very much with a report about people with red hair dressed strangely. Not every – "

Barnaby moved his hand forward as if to touch Peters' forearm causing the constable to recoil.

"Listen, guv'nor, that's at all. They walked up to that there wall, with all their luggage trolleys an' all an' blow me down, they walked straight through an' vanished."

"I see, sir." Peters paused. "That wouldn't be an open bottle of liquor you have there, would it, sir?"

Barnaby looked down at a half-empty bottle of Scotch ill-concealed in a paper bag.

Peters folded his arms. "I feel it my duty to warn you, Mr. Barnaby, that open bottles of liquor are not permitted inside King's Cross Station."

Barnaby wagged his finger emphatically once again. "Now listen here, guv'nor, my line o' work's not easy now, right, an' sometimes I need a little nip now and again to get me goin' in the mornin' but I seen what I seen."

Peters looked about to interrupt but Barnaby went on.

"That's not all. They're at the highest levels of gov'ment now. There's this funny chap what wears a bowler hat, with white hair and sideburns, what goes in an' talks to the PM 'imself at Downin' Street, just like them red heads, dressed not quite right, like he dunno how to do it. I got pictures an' all."

Peters felt his headache throbbing ever more urgently. This was going to be a very difficult morning, indeed.

On the other side of platform nine-and-three-quarters, the very same family of red heads was loading their luggage onto the Hogwarts Express. Ron Weasley was preparing for his sixth year at Hogwarts and his sister Ginny her fifth. Their older twin brothers, Fred and George, had finished school the previous year (though one couldn't very well say they had graduated) and much to the consternation of their mother, had spent most of the summer working to start up a joke shop in Diagon Alley, the wizarding shopping arcade in London.

Mrs. Weasley was fussing over the buttons on Ginny's cloak.

"Please stop fidgeting, Mum. People will see us. I'm fifteen years old."

Mrs. Weasley seemed oblivious to her daughter's growing embarrassment. "So you are. Just think, Arthur," she said to her husband, who was busy helping Ron load his trunk onto the train. "Our little girl, taking her O. this year. I can still remember when – "

"Mum!" cried Ginny. "Please don't."

"Oh, go on, Mum," said George snickering. "It's been ages since you told the one about the time she made her pacifier disapparate."

"Days at least," added Fred.

Mrs. Weasley looked irritably at her two twin sons. "One would think that you two would finally grow out of this habit of teasing your sister."

"But we never get to see her, anymore," Fred protested. "We have to make up for all the lost time, don't we, Ginny?"

Ginny did not condescend herself to respond.

"Seriously, Gin," said George. "What is it with the hair?" He traced his finger in the air to mimic the shape of her curls.

"I like it," replied Ginny, shooting a menacing look at her brother. "It's different. Just like Hogwarts without the two of you."

"The real question," said Fred, "is does Harry like it?"

Fred and George shared a conspiratorial smile which faded slightly when Ginny's hand rubbed idly over the top of her wand.

"I'd be careful if I were you," she said frostily. "I've heard there are quite a lot of bats flying about in King's Cross Station."

"I think her hair's lovely," added Mrs. Weasley, as Ginny continued to glare at her elder twin brothers, apparently not having heard or understood what her daughter had just said. "And I don't care if Harry does like it," she added, glancing reprovingly at Fred.

Mr. Weasley tried to shoot a warning glance in his wife's direction but she ploughed on.

"He's such a poor, sweet, dear, lonely boy. And he would make such a wonderful addition to our family."

"I have a boyfriend, Mum, and his name isn't Harry Potter," replied Ginny acidly.

"Well, of course, you do, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, a little vacantly. "An attractive girl like you is bound to have many admirers, I suppose."

Ginny flinched as her mother absently adjusted the collar of her coat.

"Though I still remember when Harry first – "

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"Molly, dear, I think Ron and Ginny had better be getting on the train."

"Oh, yes, goodness, the time," said Mrs. Weasley, looking at her watch. "Come on then, you two."

She kissed Ginny on the cheek as she left for the train.

Ron quickly kissed his mother in turn and moved to follow but Mrs. Weasley held him back by his arms.

"What?" he demanded impatiently.

"You are the oldest now, Ron." Mrs. Weasley shot an angry glance at Fred and George. "Not that it will make much difference, of course. Please promise me that you'll take good care of your sister."

Ron nodded.

Just as Ron was about to board the train, he heard a scurry of footsteps approaching him from behind. The whole family turned around to see a girl of Ron's own age, of about medium-height with bushy brown hair that fell haphazardly around her face as she ran.

Ron's eyes lit up. "Hermione!"

Hermione smiled briefly and for a slight instant Ron felt something descend in his stomach. But Hermione's smile quickly faded and she adopted the reflective, quizzical expression that she used whenever she was trying to solve a problem, which was most often.

"Ron, thank goodness I found you. Oh, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she said, with a smile that was brief but genuine. "I can't see Harry anywhere. I thought he must have been with you."

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Hermione. Perhaps he already boarded the train."

Hermione bit her lip anxiously. "But we arranged to meet him here on the platform."

Ron frowned, too, and also began to look anxious.

Hermione drew closer to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and lowered her voice.

"Wasn't he supposed to be coming here with the Order again?"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"The Ministry was due to bring him, actually," he said softly. "Talked to old Phyllis Flittler about it just yesterday. Things have changed since last year, of course." He glanced about the platform meaningfully.

Hermione looked over to Ron who titled his head in a slightly less subtle manner toward an inconspicuous-looking wizard in loose-fitting black robes a little to their right whose eyes shifted back and forth along the platform taking in his surroundings carefully as the families around him lifted their children's belongings onto the train. Glancing elsewhere down the platform, Hermione could see that every fifty yards or so along the platform were wizards and witches dressed in similar robes, taking in their surroundings carefully, but with no apparent connection to any of the students or their families.

"Aurors," whispered Ron. "They've got everything locked up tight in case You-Know-Who tries anything."

Mrs. Weasley put a reassuring arm on Hermione's shoulder and addressed both her and Ron. "Now don't you worry, dears, I expect the Ministry has made other arrangements."

"But, Mum," said Ron. "Don't you think he would have told us?"

"He may not have had chance. Now, the best thing for the two of you to do is to get on board the train. It will be leaving soon. There's nothing any of us can do about it now."

Both Ron and Hermione nodded reluctantly and moved onto the train. A few moments later, their faces emerged from one of the compartment windows. Ginny was with them on the other side. All three of them continued to wave until the whistle sounded and train started on its way slowly out of sight.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and turned back to her husband.

"Only two more years now, Arthur. I'll miss coming here to see them off."

She sighed.

"Oh, I do hope Harry's all right, really," she added.

Mr. Weasley laid a reassuring arm around her back. "I shouldn't worry, dear. The Ministry aurors are listening to the Order, now." He turned to Fred and George. "Coming, lads?"

"Sorry, love to," replied George, "but business calls. Back to the shop. We can take the Knight tube from Platform 10 5/8."

"Oh, do be careful," cautioned Mrs. Weasley, "and don't eat any strange looking gruel. You can always apparate back for supper."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned back to the barrier as the twins left in the other direction.

* * *

"So yeh gonna take me in, guv'nor, is that it, eh, eh?"

Peters rubbed his forehead, trying to massage the pain away. He looked around. A crowd was starting to gather. He stared at several onlookers and cleared his throat. That caused the majority to move away.

He turned to Barnaby. "That isn't really necessary, Mr. Barnaby, if you'd just – "

"Look, guv'nor." Barnaby poked his finger in the direction of Peters' stomach once again. "I'm gonna say this one last time. There – "

Barnaby stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes bulging. He tried to make a sound with his mouth but his throat got caught on his saliva. He pointed a shaky finger behind Peters. "Blimey! It's them! They – they – just bloody well – " Barnaby cowered down lower on the bench, his eyes never leaving the two red-headed aliens who had just emerged out of the wall from which they had disappeared a half an hour earlier.

Peters turned around to see a middle-aged couple with red hair walking down the platform toward them. He tensed himself in case Barnaby tried anything. The couple stared at Barnaby in confusion.

"Is he all right?" asked the man.

Barnaby whimpered.

Peters turned around slightly, one eye still on Barnaby. "I'm very sorry, sir. This gentleman appears to be a bit disturbed at the moment. I'd just make your way along, sir, if I were you."

"I see," replied the man. "Yes – yes, we will."

Peters turned around to look at the man and suddenly did a double take.

There was something a bit odd about them. The man was wearing an inside-out bright orange sweater over a mustard yellow shirt with beige trousers that ended just above his ankles. The woman was wearing a long maroon evening dress and a bright pink sweater. He looked back down at Barnaby. Where did all of these people come from?

"A bit of a close call back there," Mrs. Weasley whispered to her husband. "They've put a new bench in. We'll have to be more careful from now on."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "A good thing we were dressed in Muggle clothing." He turned around to look over his shoulder. The Muggle policeman and that odd man on the bench selling long-necked flowerpots were engrossed in agitated conversation again. Neither of them noticed the Weasleys turn the corner and vanish into thin air.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley re-apparated in their living room.

Mrs. Weasley immediately started looking about the house for anything her children might have forgotten that they still needed at school that year. They had come back the night before to make sure Ron and Ginny had had everything ready to leave the next day (which, of course, they hadn't) but it still helped to make sure. Mrs. Weasley sighed as she noticed how quiet the house was now. There were none of the usual sounds of children playing or laughing that still filled the summer time air of the Burrow. She realized that it wouldn't be long before even the summer in the Burrow was still and quiet and here she was, with her husband, spending their last precious summers before their children all grew older and moved out, locked away in the secret headquarters of the Order in Number 12, Grimmaud Place, trying to fight an enemy that still preferred to be unseen until he struck with devastating terror. It sometimes seemed to Mrs. Weasley that Voldemort's silence was just as frightening as his attacks for they knew that when he was wasn't attacking, it was only because he was planning something even more destructive. And despite their best efforts all summer and even with the support of the Ministry, they still had made very little progress in discovering what that was.

"Perhaps I should check with the Order about Harry, just to be – "

Mr. Weasley stopped dead in his tracks. Albus Dumbledore's likeness was already staring at him out of the fireplace.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small gasp and walked over to her husband.

"Albus?" said Mr. Weasley. "This is an unexpected surprise. I'm sorry we weren't here when you first called."

Dumbledore did not reply for a moment. His eyes were downcast. Mrs. Weasley had never thought of Dumbledore as being old, even though he had been headmaster since their own school days but he suddenly seemed to look ancient, as though he could hardly continue to go on much longer.

"Molly, Arthur," he finally said. "My friends."

Mrs. Weasley gasped. A tear slowly welled in Dumbledore's azure blue eye and fell slowly down his cheek. She had never seen him look so utterly defeated, not even when James and Lily had died.

"Albus?" Mr. Weasley repeated.

Dumbledore swallowed. "The Ministry went to Privet Drive this morning to collect Harry."

Mrs. Weasley suddenly felt a horrible sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Dumbledore continued. "There seems to have been an attack. The house was – has been destroyed," he finished slowly.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The Ministry went to check with the Muggle police. They found his body. I'm so very, very sorry."

Mrs. Weasley let out a small cry and began to sob. She fell back against Mr. Weasley, who simply stood there with a stunned expression on his face.

"The children," Mrs. Weasley forced herself to look up between sobs. "They've already left – "

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Minerva will take Ron and Hermione aside when they arrive. She is the head of their house."

Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Albus, surely, how could this have happened?" Mr. Weasley finally found his voice. "He was guarded at all times. Who - "

Dumbledore shook his head again.

"Remus was assigned to guard Harry all night. He was to turn him over to the Ministry aurors when they arrived. Dedalus reports that he relieved him yesterday evening around five o'clock but no one has seen him since, either." He sighed. "I'm afraid I must ask both of you to return to London as soon as possible. We need to find out exactly what happened."

The three of them stood there for a moment before Dumbledore's face slowly faded. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knew that it was important for them to pack their things quickly to return to the Order's headquarters but neither seemed able to bring themselves to move. Mr. Weasley slowly moved his arms around his wife as both stood speechless in the empty house. The only thing he could hear were the low soft moans of Mrs. Weasley's quiet grief for the boy they had all come to love.

* * *

Later that day, Harry Potter woke to feel a warm nighttime breeze blow over his face. As conscious thoughts slowly moved back into his mind, he realized that he wasn't in Privet Drive, nor was he in his dormitory at Hogwarts. Harry was torn between opening his eyes to investigate and returning once more to sleep. He had almost decided on sleep when he heard a soft moaning sound nearby. Suddenly wide awake, he was up on his feet, his glasses out of his pocket and on his face and his wand outstretched even as he realized he was still clutching it in his hand.

And found himself face to face with an alarmed looking sheep which backed away quickly.

Harry sighed and put his wand back in his pocket, trying to still his fast beating heart. Fighting off a wave of disorientation that seemed to move from his head to his stomach, Harry tried to get a grip on his surroundings. He appeared to be standing on the side of a steep craggy mountain. It was still warm, but much damper than his home in Privet Drive. A gentle fog was rolling in from the hills that encircled him. The ground around Harry was completely covered in heather and, looking down at the flattened ground where he had been laying in it, Harry immediately became aware of a numbing soreness that ran all the way up his side. He could just make out a faint light from a small house in the distance and another from what appeared to be a small boat on a distant loch in the valley below. A dying patch of light on the horizon marked the place where the sun was either about to rise or had just set. From the temperature and the direction of the breeze blowing through Harry's hair, he supposed it was just after sunset. Harry wondered how long he had been asleep. His throat felt parched and his stomach started to rumble.

He looked at the sun for a moment, his mind still feeling much like the thick fog that was rolling all around him. He became dimly aware that the sun was falling even lower in the sky. It would be completely dark soon and Harry needed to find some source of water and food and then get some idea about where he was. From what he could see of the valley below, it seemed that he was still in the Muggle world somewhere.

Muggles?

Harry stopped in his tracks as something stirred on the edge of his consciousness. A sudden panic seemed to start in his stomach and rise up through his chest unbidden. He stumbled forward awkwardly trying to stop himself from falling and his foot caught on something long and wooden rising up out of the ground. With a strange curiosity that seemed to sharpen his mind with the suddenness of the dying sun cutting through the clouds ahead of him, Harry reached to the ground and pulled out a broomstick. It began to vibrate in his hand as soon as he rubbed away the dirt from the handle with his thumb and Harry felt his heart suddenly calm as if his godfather Sirius was still alive and speaking to him through the very last thing that had been shared by them both.

Harry was still holding his broomstick when something soft fell from where it had been wrapped around its handle and landed gently on top of a clump of heather below him. Curious, Harry reached down to pick up a long square piece of plain white cloth in his hand which seemed to throb with energy, just like his broomstick, but just as his fingers were about to close over the it, he forced them to retract as if stung.

And then with another rush of panic far more horrible than the first, Harry sunk to his knees in the earth and remembered.

* * *

It had been the longest summer Harry could remember since he had first received the news, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard, like his parents before him, and would be leaving his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and wretched cousin Dudley for the best part of each year. Every summer before this, Harry had managed to escape the Dursleys for the last few weeks of the year: whether at his best friend Ron's home in the Burrow, in the Leaky Cauldron at Diagon Alley, at the Quidditch World Cup, and at the beginning of his fifth year, in the secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix at Number 12, Grimmaud Place in London. As soon as his birthday had passed, and the warm days of August had swept over the deceptively well-kept lawns of Privet Drive, Harry had fully expected that any day he would receive a note by owl post or perhaps even a shout up his window from the many invisible members of the Order (along with the occasional Ministry auror) whom he could occasionally hear apparating in and out of the grounds of Privet Drive. But one day, when a note finally did arrive, attached to the disillusioned beak of Ron's own owl Pigwidgeon, it did not contain the news that Harry had much hoped for. Rather, it had been the exact opposite: Dumbledore had felt it too dangerous for Harry to leave Privet Drive at all that summer, not, that was, until the Ministry arrived to escort him and his belongings personally to King's Cross Station on September 1. This was apparently not because Voldemort and his Death Eaters were on the rise again but rather that things had been far too quiet. Dumbledore apparently felt certain that Voldemort was up to something and that that something had to do with Harry. And though Ron had not said so directly, Harry sensed that he suspected Dumbledore knew considerably more than he was telling.

The letter itself, signed by Ron, but clearly penned by an army of well-intentioned Weasleys, had been something of a work of strategy in itself, aimed at keeping Harry from doing himself an even worse mischief than anything the Dark Lord may have had planned.

"I expect Dumbledore knows what he is doing," one line of the letter had read, sounding suspiciously like it had been coached by Mrs. Weasley.

"We're not going to London this summer, either," another line had added, this time sounding more like Ron's own penmanship. "And Hermione's not even here; she's still with her parents. Dumbledore reckons it's too dangerous for any of us to move now."

Harry could almost hear the slightly timid squeak in Ron's voice as if he were standing in front of Harry saying the words, terrified that any more bad news would be the spark that would finally light the dry tinder that was Harry right into Ron's face. Even the invisible Pigwidgeon seemed to be keeping a safe distance, his camaflouged toes upsetting an irate Hedwig's owl treats and revealing his hidden location at the far rear of her cage.

But the truth was that Harry did not feel angry at all. He felt something far, far worse. He felt ashamed.

Harry had first experienced shame at its most obvious source: he was responsible for the death of his godfather, Sirius, the closest thing Harry had ever had to a parent. Harry had tried to doubt this for the first few days of the summer holidays. He told himself as he had the summer before when he had taken Cedric Diggory with him to the graveyard that still haunted his nightmares and waking thoughts in equal measure that Sirius – as Cedric – had been murdered by others, that he had been merely a pawn in their traps, but Harry had given up trying to convince himself of this very quickly. No matter which way Harry looked at it, it was impossible to get around the fact that Sirius would still be alive right now if it wasn't for him.

But Harry's sense of shame had not stopped at this revelation. It had grown like a horrible rash for which there seemed no cure. Once Harry had realized and accepted his own part in his godfather's death, it was a very small leap to appreciate how unfair he had been to his friends ever since Voldemort's return. It seemed unfathomable to Harry that someone who had spent most of his life with no friends at all could have disposed of all his fears, frustrations, and as Harry quickly came to realize – his cowardice – at the feet of the few people in the world who had been trying to help him.

And now his friends were obviously afraid of him. All of the joy Harry used to feel at finally having real friends like Ron and Hermione, all of the anticipation at meeting them once again in the Burrow or in Diagon Alley, faded whenever he read their mail and sensed the unease that poured out in between the lines of page in the text of their letters. Neither of them had said very much except to constantly remind Harry of how little they knew. Neither, of course, dared to mention Sirius as if the very word had some kind of dark talismanic power like the name of a disease one fears to mention in front of an ailing relative lest it prove the final breaking point of their already fragile health. He wondered if both Ron and Hermione were breathing a secret sigh of relief that they were not going to meet until the start of term after all. They had no way of knowing his change in attitude, of course; with another pang of guilt, Harry realized he had never told them. He had stood at King's Cross Station, Ron, Hermione, and the members of the Order in front of him expressing their solidarity in front of the Dursleys, but he hadn't been able to find the words to express what it had really meant to him.

Of course, one of Harry's friends hadn't avoided mentioning Sirius. And it seemed to Harry to be the least likely person of all: Ron's younger and only sister Ginny had sent him two letters over the summer, both attached to the same parchment as Ron's. The first had said simply: "I'm sure I don't understand how you must be feeling about Sirius but you've got to go on, Harry" and the second, which had arrived with Ron's long explanation of Dumbledore's decision to keep him at Privet Drive all summer, had said only: "Don't give in, Harry. It's only a few more weeks. You'll be OK."

Strangely, Ginny's short letters to Harry had seemed much more satisfying than Ron and Hermione's long diatribes. It seemed difficult for Harry to believe that the girl who had once scarcely been able to look at him without sticking her elbow in the butter dish was now the only person bold enough to mention the name of his godfather. But almost as soon as this thought started to cheer him up, Harry remembered how he had snapped at Ginny after he had his false vision of Sirius being held by Voldemort and then again at the Department of Mysteries, all because she had delayed Harry from leading them all to what had eventually been Sirius' doom. And here she was writing letters back to him, letters that although short still contained the ink smudges from where Ginny's quill had obviously rested thoughtfully on the parchment as she, like Ron and Hermione, had struggled to find the right words to write. As far as Harry was concerned, he didn't deserve the effort.

The only thing that had given Harry some small pause for joy over the summer was that living with the Dursleys was ever so slightly less horrible than usual. While Harry may have felt ashamed at the frightened undertones in the letters from his friends, he took no small amount of pleasure in the wary manner in which his aunt, uncle, and cousin now seemed to regard him. Of course, his Uncle Vernon was still very much capable of the odd bark but this was soon followed by a regretful silence and a series of furtive glances around whichever room in which he had seen fit to rest his substantial posterior as if to spot some divine power that was about to exert its wrath. Harry was in no confusion about what had caused his aunt and uncle's change in attitude: the members of the Order of the Phoenix whom Harry knew were keeping watch on him all summer had warned Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia that they would be checking closely for any signs that Harry was being mistreated. The only thing that Harry could recall having brought a smile to his face all summer was overhearing his Aunt Petunia attempting to explain to their neighbor Mrs. Quibble, a toffee-nosed middle-aged woman perhaps even nosier than Aunt Petunia herself, that the loud cracking noises that frequently emitted from outside her home when an invisible member of the Order apparated or disapparated were in fact sonic booms from Royal Air Force jets which had most inconveniently altered their flight patterns to cross directly over Number 4 Privet Drive.

Despite their threats and the frequent evidence of their apparations and disapparations, however, no members of the Order were actually seen, not that was, until the very last day of the summer holiday.

As he had every summer, Harry had been marking the days down on his calendar until there was only one left. Which each day, Harry began to breathe easier, not only because he knew that he would soon be returning to Hogwarts but also because he knew that Voldemort had still been unable to break Dumbledore's magic and get past the members of the Order who had been guarding him. But on the morning of August 31, Harry woke up and felt a sudden surge of pain from the scar on his forehead, the scar that Voldemort had given him the night he had killed Harry's parents. While Harry's scar had twinged almost daily since Voldemort's first return more than one year before, he had only felt such intense pain when Voldemort had been particularly excited, angry, or somewhere very nearby. Harry waited all morning, hoping the pain would not return. In one day, he reasoned, he would be safely back at Hogwarts.

But the attacks of pain had returned throughout the day, increasing in both length and intensity. Once, just before lunch, the pain had been so extreme that Harry was sure he would pass out and begin to experience the chilling visions that he had suffered during his fifth year at Hogwarts or, worse, that Voldemort may have finally found a way to completely possess his mind. Finally, when Aunt Petunia told Harry to fetch his cousin for his lunch of boiled spinach greens, Harry slipped into his own room, wrote a quick message to the Order, and tied it to Hedwig's leg. Hedwig, sensing in her own way the urgency of the situation, quickly glided out of his window. As soon as he had returned to his own room after visiting his cousin, Harry could see that Hedwig had already returned, squawking at her own cleverness. Harry passed her a brief snack and looked out of the window curiously. As always, there appeared to be no one there but Harry was sure that whomever had been assigned to guard him must not be too far away.

The pain in Harry's scar continued as the afternoon wore on. The pain was still intense but it also seemed to stop quite quickly each time, almost as if something or someone was stopping it from maturing any further. Nonetheless, he felt it a throbbing after ache as he served a large supper of steak, peas, and mashed potatoes to his Uncle Vernon, and a much smaller plate of carrots and peas to a sulking Dudley.

"Bloody great cracking noise again this afternoon!" Uncle Vernon complained, clearly unruffled but still unwilling to shout quite as loud as he used to. "When are your lot going to finish using my house like a barking loony bin?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, trying to sound innocent as he carefully poured a glass of red wine for his aunt.

Uncle Vernon's beady eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry. He seemed to be restraining himself with an unusual degree of effort.

"When your lot finally clear out of here, there will be hell to pay for you, my lad. Don't think you're too old to get a bloody good hiding!"

"I'll be sure to pass that along," remarked Harry coolly, serving the meager remains of the dinner onto his own plate.

"You think you can threaten me, don't you, boy?" said Uncle Vernon, his voice still carefully lowered but his face the color of a beetroot. "I know your lot are here to make sure you get special treatment in this house but – "

"Actually," said Harry, feeling his temper start to rise. "My lot are here to make sure that you don't suffer a horrible death at the hands of Lord Voldemort. I don't know why they bother sometimes though. It – "

An unusually loud crack suddenly filled the kitchen. Dudley began to choke on his peas, Aunt Petunia dropped her glass of wine, and Harry turned around and gasped.

But Uncle Vernon, whose chair was facing away from the living room, simply flung his napkin to the floor and exclaimed:

"THAT"S IT! I'VE HAD IT! NO MORE, NO MORE! I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY DO TO ME. I DON'T CARE IF VOLDIE THING COMES INTO THIS HOUSE HIMSELF! I WANT THEM OUT, OUT, OUT!"

Dudley whimpered.

"Don't you worry, son," said Uncle Vernon with an unusual smile. "They won't get to you. I'll – "

"Vernon," said Aunt Petunia nervously. She pointed a shaking bony finger to a point somewhere behind him.

"I'm sorry to disturb your supper," said the calm, measured voice of Harry's old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Remus Lupin, who was suddenly standing in the doorway of the kitchen, "but I'm afraid I need to ask you all to come with me."

Petunia screamed and grabbed Dudley. The two of them ran over to the corner of the kitchen, staring Lupin up and down in fright. Petunia began to simper ineffectually and Dudley let out a low moaning sound while shaking visibly. He hadn't looked this disturbed since he had fallen into a cage at the zoo with a boa constrictor just before Harry's first year at Hogwarts.

Vernon, the man of the family, was as good as his word: he did not back down but instead fell to his knees on the floor in front of Lupin. On other occasions when members of the wizarding world had visited the Dursleys, Vernon had managed to overcome his initial fear and put up some type of – usually ineffective – resistance, but on this occasion, faced with a man he believed was about to carry out the final, horrible punishment for all of his years of mistreating his nephew, Vernon seemed totally overcome.

"Please!" Vernon croaked, fear written all over his face. "We – we never meant the boy any harm! It – It was all for his own good! W – W – We knew the boy was famous! We didn't want it to get to his head, you see. P – Perhaps w- we were a little harsh, at times. You forgive us, d – don't you, son?" he looked imploringly at Harry.

Harry returned Vernon's pleas with an expression of total disgust.

"I assure you I am not here to harm you or your family," replied Lupin, his voice as calm as Uncle Vernon's was agitated. "But you have to come with me now. You are not safe here. This house has been compromised – "

"T – that much is clear, sir," Vernon carried on, seeming to have heard only Lupin's last sentence. "I – I beg of you."

Lupin sighed somewhat warily. He reached into the folds of his robe and produced a faded white cloth from his hand, which he proceeded to unfold on the Dursleys' kitchen table.

"This," he tried to explain, his voice remaining calm but growing slightly more urgent, "is a portkey. We need to take it now to get away from here!" He took a step toward Vernon and held out his hand.

This was too much for the Dursleys. Vernon scrambled to his feet, bones cracking with the effort. He then shuffled to the rear of the kitchen and shepherded Petunia and Dudley into the adjacent dining room.

Lupin's lips tightened as he turned to Harry. "We have to leave now, Harry," he said decisively. "Let out Hedwig, but don't take anything else. Voldemort, the Death Eaters..." Lupin's voice trailed off and Harry's heart sank at the defeated look that had crept into his eyes. "They've broken the old magic, Harry. They're attacking. We had no warning. I've sent word to the rest of the Order but I'm not sure it will get to them in time. You, I, and your aunt, uncle and cousin have to leave now."

Harry didn't need to be told another word. He raced up the stairs to his room and opened Hedwig's cage. At first, she only sat there but then he waved at her with his arms.

"Fly! Go! We're being attacked! It's not safe!"

Hedwig stared at Harry for a moment before spreading her white wings and flying outside the window. In his heart, Harry wasn't sure whether he would see her again. Professor Lupin had told him to take nothing but he had still found himself opening his closet and taking out the one thing he valued the most, the only thing he had left of Sirius, the Firebolt broomstick his godfather had secretly given to him his third year. Broomstick in hand, he quickly made his way out to the door.

Harry's hand had only just reached the handle when he felt a tremendous wave of heat come over him. His scar suddenly exploded again with violent pain and he had to restrain himself from falling to his knees. His head still feeling fit to burst, Harry looked at the walls of his room: was it his imagination or were they suddenly growing darker? Had Voldemort managed to transport him once again to another place and time where he was about to commit some violent deed? Blinking the pain away, Harry could see that he was still looking at the walls of the stairway in his aunt and uncle's home but the white didn't seem to be so white anymore and the walls appeared to bleed and almost bubble. First, Harry thought that the pain in his head was affecting his vision but then a crack appeared in the wall behind his bed, causing his Gryffindor banner to fall onto the floor. A burning blackness suddenly seemed to emerge out along the cracks where the ceiling met the walls and smoke began to curl around the edges.

"Harry!" he could hear Lupin cry. "Quickly!"

Harry ran down the stairs. He felt the floorboards weaken under his step. In the distance, he could hear the Dursleys sobbing with fright in the dining room. He turned back to see a jet blackness sweeping like a cancer all over the walls of the top floor. The corridor was now filled with smoke. It was as if the house was imploding in upon itself.

Harry managed to clamber into the kitchen. He could hear Lupin and the Dursleys talking in the dining room. He tried to reach them but before he could, there was another surge of pain in his forehead and he fell to his knees on the floor. He could hear Lupin speaking but even though it was only in the adjacent room, it felt to Harry as if he was underwater.

"You have to come with us now," he heard Lupin say. "There isn't any time to discuss this."

"I – am – not – going – anywhere – with – you!" Vernon's booming voice sounded in reply. Harry heard him trying the handle of the back door, then yelping back with pain.

"It's – it's on fire!" Vernon cried in disbelief.

The kitchen where Harry was sitting was now filled with smoke coming from down the corridor. There was an enormous crashing sound as what had once been Harry's room came falling down into the front living room.

"Even if you could make it outside," Lupin was saying, "the Death Eaters are waiting there."

"The what?"

"And when they are finished burning down your house," Lupin continued, his voice still a study in calm, "they are going to come in here and make sure that Harry is dead, along with any witnesses. The only way out is to come with me, with us."

Lupin must have tried to move closer to the Dursleys again because at that moment, they all came bouncing back into the kitchen in a tragic parody of musical chairs. Flames started to leap all around them. Harry dimly saw the three Dursleys move under the kitchen table in fright. He could vaguely hear Lupin shouting at them from somewhere nearby. He tried to get up again but his legs felt like led. Smoke stung his eyes and he began to cough. He was dimly aware that a hand had grabbed his when a new surge a pain struck his scar and his world began to slip into darkness.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the white cloth on the ground below him, trying to difficulty to reason in his still dazed mind how it was he had survived the fire that had threatened to engulf Privet Drive and found himself here. It seemed obvious to Harry even in his present confused state that he and his Firebolt had traveled here by portkey.

But where was here? And why weren't the others with him? If Lupin –

Harry's thoughts seemed to freeze in his head as he reached their inevitable conclusion. If he was here with the portkey then only he had made it out of the burning house. That meant that the others –

Harry didn't want to think anymore. All he wanted to do was to collapse back onto the ground and let sleep dull the pain that had begun to grow from a horrible lump in his throat. Instead, he slowly got to his feet, swallowed, and started to walk to the lake. He did not know where he was or how he could get out safely; he did not know whether his family and his friend were still alive, or whether he would be able to bear the burden of grief if they weren't. All Harry knew was that he might not be able to survive for much longer without water; his fears and feelings would have to wait until later.

* * *

Wolfram Harrell lay down on the ground staring up at the sky, an expression of total disbelief written on his face.

Harrell was an extremely fit man whose friends had often remarked how young he looked for his age. He frequently took to his broomstick over the spacious grounds of his family's palatial estate. He had built his own Quidditch pitch and prided himself that he could still fly as fast and turn as surely as he had in the days when he had played as a chaser on the Slytherin House team. Indeed, any medical examiner, whether Muggle or wizard would have very much approved of Harrell's physical condition.

Except for one small detail. At that moment, Wolfram Harrell was very much dead.

Voldemort placed his wand back into his pocket. He watched as Nagini circled Harrell's body not quite knowing where to begin her feast, the light from the fire in the Riddle House where Voldemort was hiding reflecting on her silky skin.

Voldemort once again spoke in the high-pitched snake-like language of Parseltongue.

Nagini stared back at him, a slight look of self-pity in her jet black eye and grudgingly curled up next to Harrell, waving the back of her tail back and forth impatiently.

"Just a little while longer, Nagini," said Voldemort in English. "We do not want to disgust our guest."

He turned to Lucius Malfoy who was standing to his right, clutching the top of his stomach gingerly.

"Harrell has just returned with some valuable news, Lucius."

"I – Indeed, my lord." Malfoy tried to put on a brave smile.

"Yes," replied Voldemort, smiling. "At my instruction, he returned to Surrey this morning. The Ministry wizards arrived as predicted, made inquiries with the Muggles, of course, and planted a few memory charms. Harrell followed them back to the Ministry and then, for reasons I fear have much to do with his second conscience, he returned to the house and what do you think he found?"

Malfoy shook his head. He didn't like to think.

"It seems that something quite remarkable had happened, something that seemed quite beyond the abilities of the Muggles themselves. Harrell found the burned down house brilliantly restored in the span of a few hours right down to its three Muggle occupants, precisely the same Muggles that seemed to have been burned to a crisp after our attack the day before. Harrell even spoke to them in fact, posing as a Muggle policeman. It seemed that they had no memory as to what exactly had happened, only that their nephew had somehow left and returned to school."

What color remained on Lucius Malfoy's face quickly disappeared. "The house was – transfigured? P – Potter?"

Voldemort nodded. He sighed and looked down at Harrell's body. "Potter is still alive," he said flatly. "He escaped. I wouldn't have minded if Harrell had told me the truth. It was, after all, a very difficult operation. But he had raised my hopes last night and when he arrived today, I was so very disappointed."

Malfoy repressed a shudder.

Voldemort turned to look back at Malfoy. "We still have a chance. It seems that the Ministry is not yet aware of Potter's resurrection; of the Order I cannot say. Yet my sources inform me that Potter did not board the train to Hogwarts this morning. This suggests he is still at large somewhere. I gather, Lucius, that you have some information that may be of use in finding him."

Malfoy smiled slightly, and could not resist straightening his shoulders with self-importance. "Yes, I think I might. I assume you are referring to the list of Potter's possible hideouts that came into my possession."

"Yes, indeed." Voldemort took a step toward Malfoy. "I still remember your Quidditch days, Lucius. I trust you haven't lost your touch."

"No, my lord."

"Good. Take a party of your best men to scour the areas where you believe Mr. Potter to be hiding and find him – tonight. We don't have much time, Lucius; he is resourceful as are those who are protecting him. It won't be long before he finds his way back to Hogwarts."

Malfoy nodded. He did not move.

"Is there something more you wish to say to Lord Voldemort?"

"Y – yes, my lord." Lucius cleared his throat. "The information on Mr. Potter's whereabouts was provided by my son."

"Ah, yes." Voldemort smiled. "Young Draco. And what of it?"

"I – I was merely thinking about our agreement, should our search be successful – "

"Should your search be successful, we might talk."

Malfoy smiled wanly and turned to disapparate.

"Lucius."

Malfoy turned and looked back to his master.

"Do not lie to me, Lucius." Voldemort looked meaningfully at Harrell. "If the operation is not a success, we do have another plan, albeit a slightly more difficult one." He pulled Tom Riddle's diary from his cloak and showed it to Malfoy.

A shrewd smirk crossed over Malfoy's features.

Let the fool think he did me a great favor, thought Voldemort, rather than jeopardizing everything I have worked for. At that moment, Voldemort knew that he needed Lucius Malfoy's vanity as much as he needed his fear.

"Nevertheless," said Voldemort, causing Malfoy's smile to fade slightly. "I grow impatient. Tonight remains our best opportunity. I do not care much whether you return Harry Potter to me alive or dead."

Malfoy's jaw hardened and a hungry look surfaced in his eyes. He nodded to Voldemort, then disapparated.


	3. The Chase

Chapter 3

The Chase

Harry choked and spluttered the rancid water back into the lake. It had tasted horrible but it at least it had been enough to stop his tongue from sticking to the roof of his mouth. He only hoped he wouldn't be too sick afterwards.

Harry lingered at the water's edge for a few moments after the water had cleared his throat. He tried to take in his surroundings again through still dazed and bleary eyes. He could now see that on the far side of the lake stretched a forest which followed the far bank right up the mountainside and out of sight. Even from his present distance, Harry could see that the forest was as dense and thick as it was vast. The faintest glimmer of hope began to stir in his heart as he tried to convince himself that it could only be the Forbidden Forest he was staring at, the rich expanse of foliage that separated the Muggle world, in which he now stood, from the hidden school that was his true home. But Harry forced this hope back down again almost as immediately as it had risen not without a touch of anger. After all he had been through, he should have known better than to give into false hopes. There were forests like that everywhere in the world.

Harry found himself feeling like staying at the forest's edge for a little while longer but he could see that the Muggle in the boat out on the lake was starting to stare curiously over to the shore. Harry suddenly decided it was best if he was not seen. He made his way steadily back to the shore where he had left the Firebolt and portkey. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Harry knew he had to think about where he was and how he could find a way out, but as he walked up the mountain, he found that all he could do was fight back a horrible feeling of isolation and loneliness. A mere few days ago he had been almost afraid to see his friends again but now even the shame he had felt at Hermione and Ron's trepidation around him seemed welcome to the feeling of despair at his current predicament that threatened to overwhelm him. Harry found himself thinking seriously of turning around and trying to talk to the Muggle on the boat. At least perhaps he could tell him where in the world he was.

And he was almost on the point of doing so. But then he quickly had another thought. If Voldemort and his Death Eaters knew they had failed to kill him, wouldn't they come looking for him again? Harry hastily quickened his steps back up the side of the bank in the direction he had originally traveled. He hastily shoved his worries and guilt to the back of his mind. For now, he knew he had better make sure he did not lose the will to survive.

* * *

At that very same moment, a mere several miles away from where Harry was now hiding lost in the Highlands, the Hogwarts Express was nearing its destination.

Ron and Hermione had returned from their prefect duties to find that the compartment in which they had left their belongings was now shared by both Ginny and Luna Lovegood, who were reading identical copies of The Quibbler upside down. Luna seemed to be making the case for Ginny to add her own subscription. Ginny for her part seemed much less interested in talking and more concerned with sticking her head further into the paper as if doing so could somehow make Luna disappear.

As soon as Ron and Hermione entered the carriage, however, Luna sat up brightly and said:

"Hello, Ronald. Had a good summer? I wondered when you'd come back to tell us all the prefect news. I expect that there've been all sorts of changes now that everyone knows You-Know-Who is back."

"I'm afraid we can't discuss those sorts of things," replied Hermione acidly, sitting down next to Ginny and looking a little miffed at being ignored.

Ron's eyes darted around the carriage a little nervously. He tried to take the seat on the other side next to Ginny but Luna said:

"Oh, no, Ronald. There's plenty of room over here." She smiled at him engagingly and patted the seat next to hers.

Ron sat down next to Luna nervously and watched as Ginny buried her head even further in her newspaper apparently to conceal a smirk.

"I wrote Professor Dumbledore quite a lot of owls over the summer explaining why I should be a prefect this year," remarked Luna airily, "but it seems they must have been mislaid because I never got a reply."

"Fancy that," muttered Ron and winced as Ginny kicked him in the shin.

Luna seemed not to have noticed Ron's remark and embarked on a long-winded story about the content of the letters, why she had been a perfect choice, exactly how the owl she sent must have repeatedly lost its way, and so forth. Hermione kept clearing her throat in a fashion that reminded Ron very much of Professor Umbridge and Ron noticed with some satisfaction that after a time even Ginny seemed to lose her patience with Luna. But finally just when it seemed that Hermione would burst, Luna abruptly stopped talking and a blissful silence descended over the compartment.

There were odd spurts of conversation through the remainder of the trip but apart from Luna, no one was inclined to be very talkative. This was a little unusual considering that the Weasleys and Hermione had not seen each other this summer. Hermione tried to talk off and on about her holiday in France and Ron talked a little bit about his owl Pigwidgeon's new habit of squawking loudly in his ear to tell him he had mail before pulling back and flying around the room with the letter still attached to his beak. Most of these conversational topics fell almost instantly flat, however, and it was clear that they were mostly thinking about what might have happened to Harry.

Hermione looked out of the window and saw the mountain scenery disappear from view as the train plunged through the heart of the Forbidden Forest. She knew it wouldn't be very long until they reached Hogwarts and the whole trip passed without a mention of what was clearly on everyone's mind.

And then, as if on cue, Luna said:

"I expect you're all so quiet because you're wondering what's happened to Harry. I wouldn't worry. I heard You-Know-Who was planning to seize the train."

"And where exactly did you hear that?" asked Hermione evenly.

"You don't have a subscription to The Quibbler either, do you?"

"Don't see why I need one."

"If you had," said Luna, with the air of someone patiently explaining something quite simple to someone obviously very dense, "then you would have read about the White-Backed Razorbill. My father ran a special report for weeks. It wouldn't be in The Prophet, of course."

"I suppose you and your father visited their nest over the summer," quipped Ron, biting off the end of his tenth chocolate frog.

"As a matter of fact we did," replied Luna, missing Ron's sarcasm completely. "Only we didn't find any, of course. The White-Backed Razorbill are invisible. That's how they found out what You-Know-Who was planning. I expect they've taken Harry to their lair so You-Know-Who won't find them. He'll probably hibernate with them over the winter. As I said, though, not to worry. He'll be quite safe, I'm sure."

Before Hermione had time to ask how Luna could have known that the White-Backed Razorbill had discovered anything about the Death Eaters since they were invisible, Ginny noisily folded her paper and stared across at Luna, her face flushed red. Luna looked back at her fellow fifth-year with an expression of innocent surprise. For a moment, it seemed Ginny was about to say something to Luna but when she opened her mouth to speak, it was to the compartment in general:

"Excuse me. I think I'll go off to find my boyfriend now."

Ginny got up abruptly to leave and was almost out of the door when Ron cleared his throat.

Ginny turned back to look at her brother and met his anxious glance with a defiant expression of her own for a few seconds. Then Ron coughed loudly and said:

"W – well, maybe I'll go with you. I'd like to catch up on all the football results myself."

"Since when are you interested in Muggle sports?" retorted Ginny.

Before Ron could respond, Luna turned to him brightly and said:

"Oh, silly Ronald. Football doesn't start until autumn so he won't have anything to tell you." Ron's eyes widened in alarm as Luna snaked her arm around his. "I'd much rather you stay here with me."

Ginny turned and left the compartment just in time to hear Ron choke on the remains of his chocolate frog.

* * *

Night was falling faster now and Harry struggled to keep his footing on the rough, rocky ground. He cursed himself for leaving his Firebolt behind. He didn't think it would be very easy to find it now. He thought about retrieving it with magic but he wasn't sure who might be watching or worse, whether the Ministry might censure him for performing magic away from school even in his present predicament. Harry was certain of very little at the moment but he did know one thing: he wanted to get back to Hogwarts, whatever it took.

Harry began to feel his frustration and anger threaten to take control once more as he walked around in circles searching vainly for his broomstick. Finally, he spotted the white of the portkey shining on the ground in the light of the moon above him. He moved cautiously to it, stumbling as he did so on something hard and wooden. Smiling despite his pain, Harry triumphantly retrieved his Firebolt. He looked up as if to thank the heavens and then froze.

Was it his imagination, or had a shadow just past over the moon?

Harry peered up at the sky again, hoping to reassure himself that what he'd thought he had seen was a trick of an eye. He stared for long enough to almost begin to convince himself. And then it happened again.

With a quickening of his pulse, Harry realized that there was no use trying to deceive himself any longer. Gripping the handle of his Firebolt tightly, Harry could see that there were several dark shapes circling high in the sky above him. At first he thought they might be bats, and then large birds, but after another moment Harry could see that they were riders on broomsticks. His heart leaping with hope, Harry remembered how the members of the Order had taken him on broomstick to headquarters the previous year. Perhaps they were out again looking for him this time. Perhaps –

Harry fell to the ground as a splitting pain burned from his scar. No, he realized, as he screwed his eyes closed tightly to block out the agony: these riders were not friendly.

* * *

Ginny looked out of the window of the empty compartment in which she now found herself. She could hear Dean talking loudly to Seamus Finnigan in the compartment next to hers but she decided she wasn't quite ready to talk to him yet. Dusk had fallen outside and she could see her reflection through the light of the compartment. It looked back at her with a troubled frown. She knew she shouldn't have let Luna get to her like that but she could not deny that she had touched a raw nerve. Ginny had started the day stewing in anger at Dean, who was supposed to have met her on the platform and then in the train but hadn't showed. But as time had passed, no news had come from Ron and Hermione out of the prefect carriage, and Ginny had thought things over, she realized that she was really worried sick about Harry. No matter which way Ginny looked at it, it didn't seem right that no one could tell them anything, even if it was only that Harry was safe, whatever his secret location. The more she thought about it, the more Ginny was afraid that something was very wrong. And it was not long before she found herself starting to think what it would be like if she never saw Harry again.

When Ginny was a young child, her mother would read her bedtime stories of all the famous wizards and witches in history: Godric Gryffindor, Henrietta Handsdowne, Albus Dumbledore... But the one Ginny always told her mother to tell her over and over again was the story of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Ginny was fascinated that a little boy hardly older than herself had defeated the Dark Lord, the most evil wizard ever to have lived, the sorcerer her parents still did not dare to name. She begged her mother to make up stories about how Ginny traveled along with Harry Potter, saving the world from dark wizards and witches everywhere. When she had first met the lonely boy with the glasses on the platform at King's Cross Station Harry's first year, Ginny did not imagine that he could be the great Harry Potter. The real Harry seemed shy, polite, and, well, vulnerable in comparison to the Harry that Ginny had imagined. But Ginny had not felt disappointed; if anything, she was interested further. Ginny's imagination became consumed with the idea of making friends and sharing excitement with the real Harry at Hogwarts. And then it wasn't long before she found herself imagining their relationship to be much more than friendship.

And so it was on one unusually clear summer morning before her first year at Hogwarts, when Ginny's romantic fantasies had gotten very far ahead of her, that she had wandered down the stairs to the kitchen and seen the very last thing that she had imagined: Harry Potter was sitting down to eat with them at breakfast. Ginny had dreamed about saying and doing many different things on her first real meeting with Harry but running back up the stairs in fright had not been one of them.

And then she had shared a real life adventure with Harry Potter in the Chamber of Secrets. And it had not been fun and exciting. It had been frightening, disturbing, and humiliating. And Ginny did not dream about sharing adventures with Harry any more.

But she still dreamed about being together with him. Harry Potter was every bit as noble, true, but also as vulnerable and human as she had imagined. She was fascinated that anyone could share all of these contradictory qualities together in such abundance, and that fascination fueled her attraction to and, as she grew older, her desire for him.

During a game of Wizard truth her second year, she had told her feelings to her roommates Catherine and Amanda. Neither of them had seemed very surprised. As Amanda put it, Ginny was not blessed with the dullest complexion. Everyone in Gryffindor tower knew that Ginny was like a warning beacon: they only had to see her glowing red to know that Harry must be somewhere nearby. Both of her friends had tried to convince her that her crush wasn't healthy: they had many reasons. It's not true love, they had said. You have a crush on him because you think he's a hero, because he saved your life, because he's handsome and plays Quidditch, and so on.

At first, Ginny had managed to persuade herself that they were right but as time went by, Ginny became more and more certain that she didn't just want to be Harry's friend. If he really knew she liked him, then maybe there was still a chance he would start to think differently about her. Or maybe he really liked her but was too shy to say. As the announcements for the Yule Ball her third year were made and Harry and Ron began to fuss and complain that they would finally have to ask a girl, Ginny's excitement grew. She began to pay more attention to her appearance: fixing her hair differently, experimenting with various shades of wizard blush, and once even trying a stick of Muggle lipstick. She would sit near Harry, Ron, and Hermione, still lacking the courage to join in with any of their talks but convinced that Harry would not be able to help but notice her and would one day pluck up the courage to walk over and ask her to the ball. When an uncharacteristically giggling Hermione told an amazed Ginny one day that she had been invited to the ball by Viktor Krum, Ginny was confident that all remaining competition had been eliminated. Amanda and Catherine remarked on her appearance and even Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, two girls in Harry's own class, joined in on the gossip that she was sure to catch Harry's eye. Ginny was convinced that it was only a matter of time before Harry would notice her and ask her to the dance. Her daily thoughts grew more and more consumed with the fantasy of going to the ball escorted by one of the champions, how everyone in the school would look at them as they began to dance, how Harry's shy green eyes would finally turn toward hers and he would confess the love he had hidden for so long.

But as the ball grew closer and Harry still hadn't asked her, Ginny's hopes had begun to wane. Finally, Neville Longbottom had walked up to her out of the blue one day, his face pale white and trembling and asked whether she would go to the ball with him. Caught completely by surprise, Ginny found she did not have the heart to refuse him. Besides, as a third year, she couldn't go to the ball unless she was invited by somebody else and with all the anticipation of the others around her, she couldn't bear to think of not going.

But Ginny still hoped that she would end up with Harry once the ball got started. She imagined how she would lure him away from whichever girl he had been haplessly forced to invite as champion. She had been deep in her plans one late afternoon when Harry had walked into the common room and announced right in front of her that he had just asked Cho Chang to the dance and been turned down.

Ginny could scarcely recall ever having felt as empty as she'd had at that moment. All of her hopes and plans had seemed to collapse like a castle of cards. Harry had not seemed to even know how she'd felt about him all this time. He hadn't been shy around her; he just hadn't noticed her there at all. All the time she had only been his friend's little sister, someone whose life he'd saved not out of love for her but out of duty to her brother. All the time she'd thought he'd been about to ask her to the ball he'd really been thinking about another girl in the same way that she had been thinking about him. Ginny's reflection twisted in the mirror as she remembered how she'd tried to stay sitting at the table with Harry and Ron and hide her feelings behind very friendly barbs, all the while using every last ounce of strength to force back the tears that welled up behind the surface of her eyes. Finally, when Ron had suggested that Harry invite her to the ball as a last resort, it had just been too much. Ginny knew she would have to leave to avoid making an emotional spectacle of herself.

But only after she had cried her lonely tears, after she had gone to the ball with Neville and he had run away from her in fright after stepping on her toe three times in the first dance, after she had sat by herself moodily looking at Harry looking at Cho, that things had finally changed: that was when Ginny had met Michael Corner.

Michael wasn't ugly but he also wasn't the most remarkable looking boy Ginny had ever seen. She might have ignored him even after he had sat down next to her if he hadn't first asked what she was looking at and then why such a beautiful girl was spending all of her time staring at a boy who obviously took no interest in her. Ginny hadn't really known what to say: no one besides her mother had called her beautiful before, let alone a boy; even Neville had asked her only as a second resort. It was not long before Michael had brought Ginny out of her shell and after she had started she couldn't stop talking: about herself, her family - even her brush with death in the Chamber of Secrets. Part of her had felt like a fool for talking so much but Michael hadn't seemed to mind at all.

Even the very next day, Ginny found that she had started to think differently about Harry. But she couldn't forget about him that easily either. And then Michael started sending her owls, and sitting next to her at meals, and it wasn't long before Ginny had found herself in two minds. Tired of hearing the opinions of her roommates, she had decided to confide in Hermione.

Hermione was much more open than Amanda or Catherine. She didn't seem particularly surprised to hear about Ginny's crush though she hadn't known about Michael. Hermione had decided that she would test the waters with Harry, a prospect that made Ginny considerably nervous since Hermione was not known for her subtlety. Nonetheless, she had managed to be sufficiently discreet and had reported that all Harry would talk about was Cho. She didn't think it was a good idea for Ginny to keep pining over Harry, especially when there was someone else out there who would like her back.

In the end, what Hermione had told Ginny hadn't been all that different from what her roommates had said to her two years before but the more time she spent with Michael and the more his letters started to sound like love owls, the more Ginny had started to think that Hermione was right. Finally, at the end of the year, she had meant to go to say goodbye to Michael for the summer and join her family to watch Harry in the Third Task but somehow she could never seem to leave. Then after everyone had left but herself and Michael, she had shared her first kiss with him.

By the time their fourth year began, Ginny and Michael were a couple: they went to Quidditch games together, snogged in private during Hogsmeade weekends, and always paired up in Harry's DA classes. Ginny found that her relationship with Harry had changed completely: she no longer mooned after him speechlessly. She could talk to him, reason with him, and even get mad at him when his self-pity blossomed to the point that he would lash out at others. She had gained a measure of self-respect around him of which her younger self would never have been capable. And she was sure that it had been much to Harry's benefit also: while the old Ginny would have been too frightened to say much in front of the Boy Who Lived, the new Ginny was the only one of Harry's friends who refused to accept his depressive moping and whether through anger or gentleness had managed on several occasions to bring Harry out from the dangerous abyss into which he had seemed so often very close to sinking.

But as her fourth year moved on, Ginny found that while she remained infatuating to Michael, much of his own personality had begun to grate on her most notably his occasional lapses of sound judgment and, more disturbingly, his frequent bouts of depressive moodiness. Ginny reasoned that if anyone had the right to be depressed it was her. But for all the torture Tom Riddle had piled upon her both in the Chamber of Secrets and the scars she still lived with afterwards, she was determined to never give in. What right did Michael, who came from a privileged family and had never experienced anything remotely as horrible as she had, have to feel depressed all the time? And so near the end of the year when he had finally worked himself into a bottomless funk over a stupid game of Quidditch, Ginny had decided that enough was enough.

But Ginny also knew, deep in her heart, that she had not only chosen to break up with Michael because she could no longer tolerate his sullen moods but also because had wanted to get much closer to her, a great deal closer than Ginny was ever going to feel comfortable with, and she knew she was never going to be able to tell Michael why.

It was not long after Ginny had broken up Michael that Dean Thomas had made his move. Dean's infectious optimism and gorgeous looks had been just the antidote to Michael Corner even if it had gotten right up her brother's nose. By the end of her fourth year, love with Harry had been the furthest thing from Ginny's mind.

But then the nightmares had begun.

Ginny had dreamed about being in the Chamber for years now. Sometimes the dreams were like shadows dancing through her mind, always on the edge of her perception. At other times, they were real and she would still have to live with them the morning after. Over the years, the nightmares had become fewer, but ever since she had come back to the Burrow this past summer, the nightmares had come fast and frequent. They also seemed different from before. She was baffled as to what they were telling her. It was always the same: she was lying in the Chamber and Harry and Tom were preparing to fight. Harry wanted her to save him but she could never quite bring herself to do it. The details would sometimes change, though: sometimes Tom was Tom and sometimes he was Voldemort. The Ginny in the dream still had very intense feelings for Harry but Ginny wasn't sure in her waking moments whether it was her buried feelings that were causing the dream or the dream that was causing the feelings.

But now as Ginny looked out the window, she shuddered. The dreams seemed less like feelings now and more like a premonition. She felt a horrible fear form inside of her gut: Harry wasn't coming back.

Ginny continued to look at her reflection, the outside forest black as pitch around her. She felt a sudden lurch. The Hogwarts Express was reaching its destination.

* * *

Harry grabbed his Firebolt tightly, looking desperately around to see if anyone might be coming to help him. He did not have to look up at the sky now. He could hear them coming, men on broomsticks, cutting through the night air. He could hear the distant sounds of their raised voices. They had spotted him now betrayed by the light of the moon and were spiraling downward ever faster. Whether they were friend or foe, Harry still wasn't sure, but as a sense of urgency and a will to survive overcame his clouded mind and confused emotions, he decided he wasn't going to wait to find out.

Harry had no sooner started to mount his broomstick when he heard a sound like a flare being launched. He felt his face flush in fright. He had only had that sound once in his life before that he could remember. Harry forced himself to look up and saw a green light flash into the sky, then another, and another.

The Dark Mark was forming.

* * *

The returning students to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry got out of the stagecoaches that had taken them from the train platform up to the school and started to walk into the castle.

"God, I'm starving," declared Ron. "I can just smell that feast from here."

Luna drew up alongside him.

"After all those chocolate frogs? Think of the poor thestrals. Why that one over there looks like – "

"I can't see them, all right?" snapped Ron irritably.

Hermione didn't respond to their conversation. She kept looking around nervously. "I still can't see Harry," she said.

Ginny, who seemed to have found Dean, and was now reunited with Ron, Hermione, and Luna, kept darting her eyes back and forth, one hand holding her boyfriend's and another rubbing her arm as if she was cold despite the unusual warmth of the evening.

Finally, the students made it into the large Entrance Hall. For the returning students, the routine was now familiar and Ron took the lead in making their way across to the Great Hall where the new first years would soon be sorted and, more importantly, the feast would begin.

Ron was so intent on his journey that he nearly walked straight into Professor McGonagall, who was standing at the front entrance to the hall, blocking their advance.

"Oh, excuse me, Professor, I – " Ron broke off as he looked at the expression on McGonagall's face. She seemed to have aged thirty years in the short span of the summer. Her eyelids were heavy and her complexion blotchy as though she had been crying. She looked almost vacantly down at Ron before finally saying very quietly:

"You'd better stay where you are, Mr. Weasley."

Ron nodded but did not say anything. He began to feel very uneasy.

The crowd of students that was now forming behind Ron was forced to stop, most of them still outside the door to the Entrance Hall. There were hushed murmurings of confusion among the students.

McGonagall took out her wand. She was about to place it to her face when a loud booming sound resonated just above the students.

"Chaos! Confusion! Misery! Despair!"

Peeves the Poltergeist was jumping up and down in obvious delight with a wicked grin on his face.

McGonagall suddenly found her voice. "PEEVES!" she shrieked.

"Understood, madam," replied Peeves, bowing his hat. "Peeves is not wanted." Peeves began to move away but continued to rub his hands with glee. "Oh, just wait until you all find out what happened! Oh! Oh! Oh!" And with a final glare from McGonagall he was gone.

Ron suddenly felt sick.

McGonagall placed her wand to her mouth once again.

"Sonorus. If I could have everyone's attention." McGonagall broke off as she cleared her throat which was still hoarse from shouting at Peeves. "Tonight's feast has been cancelled."

There were murmurs of confusion and dismay from the students.

"If I can have quiet, please," said McGonagall. "Some very disturbing events have taken place today in the wizarding world and the faculty must meet together to discuss them. First years, when they arrive, will be taken to the main hall where they will be temporarily accommodated until a proper sorting ceremony can take place. Older students will proceed to their dormitories. Food and drink will be provided in your common rooms."

There was a relative silence, broken only by the shuffling of feet and disentanglement of bodies as the students moved in the directions of their respective houses.

Ron turned around to walk with the other students to Gryffindor Tower.

"Except," and here McGonagall seemed to croak on her words. "Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. If you would follow me, please."

Ron nodded and looked around to Hermione who was standing just behind him, her face the color of birch.

McGonagall waited for Ron and Hermione to reach the spot where she was standing only to see that Ginny was trailing behind them, resisting Dean's attempts to drag her back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

"Not you, Miss Weasley," McGonagall said softly. "Please return to your dormitory."

Ginny did not reply. She stood her ground for one moment longer. In that brief moment, she fixed McGonagall with a stare that was as penetrating as it was unreadable. McGonagall felt herself shudder involuntarily.

Then, Ginny slowly nodded, then turned around and accompanied Dean back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Harry pushed up with his feet from the ground and in an instant his broomstick had risen high into the air. It did not take long for the Death Eaters to catch up to him. So far as Harry could tell, there were seven of them, riding broomsticks that Harry did not yet recognize, as fast as or perhaps faster than his own Firebolt. In an instant, the Death Eaters were riding close enough that Harry could see their black cloaks trailing behind them in the wind. Each of them wore masks that covered their faces.

Harry had barely registered this when he saw one of the Death Eaters take out a wand and aim it at his position:

"Avada Kedavra!" he heard the Death Eater cry.

Harry darted quickly to his right as the green beam from the Death Eater's wand narrowly missed his hip. He could feel the wind in his ears and his heart pounding in his head.

The Death Eaters were aiming to kill.

Suddenly, Harry was surrounded on all sides. Beams of wand light flashed all around him. Relying on his Quidditch instincts, Harry darted back and forth, avoiding the beams. The earth and the sky seemed to melt into one darkened mass as Harry twisted and twirled to try and break the Death Eaters' formations. It suddenly seemed that everywhere Harry looked there were Death Eaters. He realized with horror that they had taken advantage of their superior speed and his confusion to surround him from all sides.

His heart leaping in his chest, Harry ducked as he felt another flash of wand fire pass just below his left ear and then twisted again as another volley screamed over his head. His broomstick flailing aimlessly around in circles in the sky, Harry knew that he wasn't going to be able to avoid the Death Eaters' curses much longer. He briefly considered landing and looking for cover in the hills but then realized he would make a much slower and easier target on foot. As the flash from another curse tickled the bristles on his Firebolt, Harry realized that his best chance was to hope that his Quidditch skills were better than any of the other riders. He also knew one other thing: he had to be much more desperate to survive than the Death Eaters were desperate to kill him.

Dodging multiple bursts, Harry righted his broomstick and made out the pitch black of the forest where it started beyond the open fern-strewn landscape ahead of him. Whatever forest it was, Harry still did not know but it was better than flying out over the open fields.

Two Death Eaters blocked Harry's path. Hugging his body around his broomstick tightly, Harry picked up speed and cannoned straight toward him. He tried to make himself as small as possible as the Death Eaters fired frantically at his broomstick. He could see that the two riders were starting to move further apart, leaving an opening in the middle which they littered with wand fire, daring Harry to try and pass.

But Harry did not make for the opening. Resisting the temptation to close his eyes, he continued to aim for one of the Death Eaters. Still swerving and weaving, Harry grew so close that he could see the Death Eater's wand silhouetted against the moonlight as he aimed a curse directly between Harry's eyes. Harry waited as long as he dared, then listened to the curse fly aimlessly over his head as he took a sharp dive. In a single motion, Harry drew his wand out of his pocket and fired up at his attacker:

"Stupefy!"

Harry watched as the beam from his wand struck the Death Eater's stomach. He tumbled over his broomstick and down into the black night's sky.

Harry quickly spun back around and fired at the Death Eater's partner just as he was bringing his own wand down in a curse. The Death Eater tried to duck but Harry's stunning spell hit the Death Eater's head just above his ear. Then he, too, tumbled off his broomstick and fell down through the night's sky.

Without stopping to think whether either of the Death Eaters had survived their fall, Harry gripped his broomstick with both hands and moved off into the space that was now opening up ahead of him. He felt the wind rush faster through his ears as his Firebolt gained speed. He heard shouts of confusion behind him and looked back to see two of the Death Eaters start after the fallen riders before another of the Death Eaters angrily called them back. The remaining Death Eaters regrouped quickly but the confusion was long enough to give Harry seconds of precious space and time. He steered through the open gap and accelerated over the threshold of the forest. Still gripping his wand in his hand, Harry took a deep breath and held it out in front of him.

"Point me!" Harry cried.

Harry's wand spun around toward the direction of Hogwarts. He swept sideways in a graceful arc and sped off over the first trees of the forest, the Death Eaters in pursuit.

* * *

McGonagall finished telling Ron and Hermione everything that had happened that day and the night before: the Dursley's burned down house, the Ministry's arrival that morning and Dumbledore's discussion with the Weasleys (and apparently the Grangers via Muggle phone). She managed to get through the entire account unbroken but then began to sob and took out a slightly fading blue spotted handkerchief to dab her eyes.

She didn't know how she had thought Ron and Hermione would respond but she had not expected them to sit there as silently as they did. Both of them had gone horribly pale but neither had shown any reaction to anything she had said. They simply stared forward, not quite looking at her, large plates of food and a pitcher of pumpkin juice untouched between them.

Finally Ron said: "And they don't know anything else? They don't have any idea who's behind it, what else happened?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Believe me, that is what the Ministry and the Order are making every effort to discover as we speak. And I will inform the both of you along with your parents when there are any new findings. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will let the Headmaster know that you are here." McGonagall turned away and left not quite managing to look Ron and Hermione in the eye.

The door to Dumbledore's office shut and Ron and Hermione heard McGonagall's footsteps slowly disappearing down the spiral staircase. They continued to stare straight ahead, neither of them acknowledging that she had left.

There was a sudden flutter of movement. Fawkes the Phoenix, his brilliant red tail flowing elegantly behind him, came to perch delicately on the side of a tray of chocolate fudge cakes. He bowed ever so slightly to Ron. A single tear welled in the side of his eye and fell onto the tabletop.

"Hello, Fawkes," said Ron quietly, his voice suddenly breaking. "I don't think even your tears can heal us this time."

Hermione suddenly started to sob. She began quietly but soon her sobbing became more intense until finally she started to wail loudly. Ron had seen Hermione cry before but never like this; her wailing seemed to echo off the walls of Dumbledore's office like the unearthly cries of a banshee.

"Hermione. Hermione," he said urgently.

Hermione reached over the table and grabbed Ron into an embrace. He suddenly felt Hermione's tear-stained cheek next to his and her bushy brown hair filled his vision. She continued to wail right next to his ear and he could feel her tears falling down onto his robes.

Hermione had always been a very tactile person but Ron had never been quite comfortable hugging his best friend. He always seemed to feel his heart quicken and his head fill with thoughts about someone coming around the corner and seeing their embrace or, in this case, Dumbledore walking into his office. Of course, it was perfectly natural for them to hug after they had just heard that their other best friend had been killed but somehow Ron still could not shake the discomfort. And Hermione always seemed to hold on so tightly like Ron was a giant stuffed teddy bear. It just felt claustrophobic.

But this time he supposed Hermione needed very badly to be hugged. Ron kept her in the embrace for what seemed like an eternity. He finally released her and moved backwards. Her release was more reluctant but she did not try to continue to press him against her. A few strands of Hermione's hair lingered for a moment on Ron's shoulder before falling back down toward her.

"Why aren't you crying?" Hermione suddenly demanded.

"I – I don't know," replied Ron, the reality of Harry's death suddenly returning to the forefront of his attention. "I – I don't feel I can; I'm just shocked, I suppose, or – or – angry," Ron decided, feeling his face flush red.

Hermione grabbed her own handkerchief and blew her nose noisily, looking at Ron through bloodshot eyes. "Look, Ron," she suddenly said, as if coming to a decision. "It's just the two of us now." Hermione sniffed. "W – We need to be honest with each other."

Ron nodded, not quite sure what was coming next.

"T – There's something I need to tell you. I've been thinking about this all summer." Hermione started to speak quickly and look down at her knees. "I just – I just – " Hermione stopped, then suddenly balled her fists in frustration. "Oh, why is this so difficult?" she asked the arm of the chair. "We're friends, after all."

"Yeah," Ron replied weakly, suddenly feeling very foolish.

Hermione paused for a long moment and Ron felt a flood of unfamiliar emotions run through his head – anger at Harry's death, emptiness at the loss of his friend, pity for Hermione, and a sudden nagging curiosity to understand exactly what it was she was trying to tell him.

"I can't," said Hermione suddenly, releasing her grip and looking back into Ron's eyes. "Not now. There – there's just too much – too much has happened. I'm – I'm – I'm sorry."

"OK," replied Ron dumbly.

Hermione sighed, then looked at Ron anxiously. "Please," she said, in a very quiet and scared voice. "Please, Ron." She moved toward him with her arms out. "I – I know you don't feel that comfortable h – h – holding me."

What was that word she had just used, Ron suddenly asked himself. Holding?

"I don't feel uncomfortable at all," Ron lied, suddenly aware that his voice was coming out as a high-pitched squeak.

"But I." Hermione looked down again. "I – I just feel really alone right now."

Hermione's plea was so pitiful it frightened Ron. He pulled her into another embrace and told himself that he would not let go until she was ready.

* * *

Harry held onto his Firebolt and willed it to go ever faster. His ears felt numb from the suddenly cold wind that was rushing through him as he sped over the treetops of the forest. His wand continued to point him as he struggled hard to acknowledge the harsh reality that was aching like an itch that couldn't be scratched in the back of his mind: there was no way of telling where he was flying or how far he had to go. He tried to buoy his own hopes by convincing himself that Lupin would have arranged the portkey to take him as near to Hogwarts as it could. But the truth was, he could be thousands of miles from Hogwarts in another part of the world now for all he knew. How far could a portkey really take him? Harry ruefully recalled how the spectators at the World Quidditch Cup had materialized in England from all over the world. He could still be anywhere.

And what if he did make it to Hogwarts? Surely the Death Eaters wouldn't follow him there, would they? Harry swallowed. The Death Eaters had made to Privet Drive. Perhaps they had found a way to conquer Hogwarts as well. For all he knew, the school might have already been ambushed. Voldemort might be there himself, waiting to taunt him again before this time successfully killing Harry, just as he had killed his parents, his godfather -

And his aunt, uncle, and cousin?

Harry forced his doubts and fears to the back of his mind. He had found his nerve before and if he was going to have any chance to survive this time, he knew he would have to find it again. He wouldn't give up, not as long as he still had a hope.

Harry looked behind him. There were now five Death Eaters left in pursuit, two just behind him and three a little further back. He also saw that they were gaining on him quickly. He would have to worry about other things later. Right now, he had to find a way to keep a distance between himself and his pursuers.

And time was running out.

* * *

Ginny walked with the other Gryffindors into the common room and sat herself down on the first available chair. Dean sat down at the seat opposite, looking at her nervously. Ginny spotted her roommates Amanda and Catherine elsewhere in the crowd but she decided very quickly she was not in the mood to say hello.

"Ginny?" said Dean, looking searchingly into her eyes.

"What right do they have?" Ginny suddenly snapped, her cheeks flushed red in anger. "What right do they have to hear everything straight from McGonagall's lips while I have to sit in here wondering whether he's ever coming back. What right? You'd think they'd signed their names in blood that they alone are his friends. What - "

"Ginny!" said Dean, as several of their fellow Gryffindors threw furtive looks at Ginny. "They're his friends! They've been friends since first year. They're – "

"And I'm not his friend?" retorted Ginny, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"N – no, I didn't mean that, Ginny, you know I didn't."

"It just isn't fair. No one thinks about me; no one ever – "

"I'm his friend, too, Ginny, all right?" said Dean, anger creeping in his own voice. "We've lived in the same room together for five years."

Ginny stopped and looked at Dean properly, her eyes suddenly very large. Dean continued to look at her anxiously for a moment before she lowered them.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's alright." Dean moved closer to Ginny and touched the side of her arm gently. "Look, Ginny – "

"No," said Ginny suddenly, holding onto Dean's other shoulder. "It's not alright. I was mad at Ron and Hermione and I took it out on you. You deserve better."

"I – I'm sorry about what happened on the train," said Dean, lowering his own eyes. "I – "

But Ginny shook her own head.

"It doesn't matter about that anymore," she said and she realized that it didn't. The horrible nauseating worry that had been growing all day had seemed to finally burst from somewhere in the pit of her stomach the moment McGonagall had asked Ron and Hermione to her office.

"I'm just really scared," Ginny confessed quietly. She reached out and took Dean's hands into hers.

"It might not be as bad as you think, Ginny."

Ginny looked up at Dean again, a sudden faraway look in her eyes.

"It is," she said quietly. "I know."

Dean opened his mouth as if to respond but then closed it again when he could not think of anything else to say to Ginny. He held onto Ginny's hands and rubbed her sweat-covered palms in his. He looked into her eyes and knew as she did, that all they could do was wait.

* * *

Harry felt a bolt of wand fire glance just past his left shoulder. He dived to his right and then back to his left again as another bolt from his right shot past him. Harry saw a small gap open up in the trees ahead. He abruptly swung his Firebolt around and plummeted hard straight down into the crevice. He looked briefly behind him as the canopy of trees overhead closed. He could see that the Death Eaters were in disarray: two of them had overreached their target. A third tried to dive into the opening and met the open space at precisely the same moment that one of the lead riders tried to backtrack from the opposite angle. The third rider tried desperately to swerve but it was too late: there was a satisfying crack of handle on handle and the third rider spun out of control and thudded hard against a large tree. The lead rider managed to regain his balance but not before his wand fell from his grasp and landed in the undergrowth somewhere behind Harry.

The ground loomed ahead fast. Just as he was about to crash into the bottom, Harry pulled up, the bristles of his broomstick kissing the top of the fern-strewn ground. He moved his broomstick forward just centimeters above the earth. A whooshing sound behind him told him that the wandless Death Eater was in pursuit but Harry had gained back some ground. He didn't dare look back again to see if any more were following him. At that moment, the clearing came to an end and Harry plunged broomstick first into the thick dark forest. He weaved his Firebolt dangerously fast between thick trunks of trees, smaller branches and vines stinging his face like the sharp cracks of a whiplash. He could hear insistent cries from a myriad of strange creatures. Now and again, Harry became aware of movement to his left and right as small – and sometimes not so small – animals scurried out of the way. He kept hoping to hear the crash of a pursuing broomstick against a tree but the silence told him that his hunters must be still on his tail.

Just then, Harry heard the whooshing sound of wand fire to his left. A wild beast from somewhere in front of him roared in fear and an enormous tree fell down across Harry's path. He rolled over sideways to avoid it, seeing as he did so a second chaser traveling parallel to his own position, wand at the ready. The chaser was starting to pull ahead of Harry and he realized that the two Death Eaters were planning an ambush. Harry pulled up sharply, riding the large trunk of a tree up into the open sky.

As he pulled out into the open, he saw the two other Death Eaters still flying through the sky to his right. He tore forward and heard one of them shout in the distance. He knew they would both move to pursue him. Harry took out his wand again.

"Point Me!"

He shifted twenty degrees to his left to remain on a course for Hogwarts, still hoping that it was the Forbidden Forest he was riding through. Suddenly, on an impulse, Harry took his Firebolt high into the sky, higher than he had ever done in any Quidditch game, so high he could feel the wind resistance start to jolt the tail of his broomstick. But he had to know.

And then he did.

Far in the distance, straight ahead of him, were the unmistakable lights and turrets of Hogwarts, their reflection glistening in the lake by the side of the school. Harry felt so relieved tears sprang to his eyes. If only he could just hold on.

Wand fire crackled from underneath him as one of the Death Eaters moved up to his position. Harry took out his own wand.

"Impedimenta!"

Harry's own shot flew harmlessly into the empty sky. He maneuvered his broomstick once again toward the top of the thick foliage below, skimming the tops of the tall trees. He heard the cries of the Death Eaters and dodged a flurry of wand fire before diving down directly in through the top branches of a large leafy oak. Harry felt the leaves and branches bite into his face as he rode down and down, praying that the Death Eaters wouldn't follow his suicidal plunge. He veered dangerously close to the tree's main trunk and then down into the thick forest again, passing inches over a small bog before cutting another winding path through the thick forest. He heard the cracks of branches behind and knew that at least one of the Death Eaters was in close pursuit. He wound through thicker and thicker foliage. The light of the moon was distant indeed from the dark forest ground. Harry was not sure he could keep this up much longer. He gasped as a large thick trunk emerged directly in front of his face, swerving just in time to avoid a surely fatal collision.

Then Harry heard an unearthly cry just behind him. At first he thought it was the moans of another strange beast, but then he chanced a brief look back and saw to his horror that a giant eight-legged spider had leaped onto the stomach of the on-rushing Death Eater, unseating him from his broomstick which had now crashed and splintered into the trunk of a nearby tree. He heard the Death Eater shouting a curse at the spider, but the curses were soon replaced with chilling screams. Harry looked back ahead of him. As he dodged more and more trees, he suddenly realized that the ground just beneath him was alive with movement. Suddenly, something grasped onto his own leg and started forcing him down into the forest. He looked back to see the beady eyes of an enormously large arachnid. Pain suddenly seared into Harry's calf as the spider dug into his flesh with its pincers. Returning his eyes quickly to the dangerous path ahead, Harry pointed his wand to the dipping end of his broomstick and cried:

"Arachnia Exhume! "

Harry shouted the curse three times before he finally heard a snapping sound and felt the spider drop off the end of his broomstick. Harry righted his Firebolt and continued his journey deeper and deeper into the forest, hoping to see some kind of clearing ahead of him, but the darkness went on.

From the sound of snapping twigs behind him, Harry knew there was at least one Death Eater still on his tail. He suddenly saw a flash of movement to his right and noticed the Death Eater running just beside him. He heard the Death Eater shout a curse and saw flashes of light coming between the trees before bouncing harmlessly off the wood. Harry dodged and weaved, trying to put as much space between them as he could, but the Death Eater seemed to twist with him, matching Harry's every turn. In a tiny part of his mind not concentrated on survival, Harry sensed something familiar about this rider, as if they were dancing a dance they had choreographed years ago. He accelerated his Firebolt. Flying perilously fast, Harry swooped in between two trees, but the Death Eater hung close. Finally, swallowing his nerves, Harry made a sudden swerve to the right and criss-crossed hard into a collision course with the Death Eater. He ducked as the Death Eater cried "stupefy," then flew inches above his head and ducked in between the two main trunks of a large oak. The Death Eater recovered almost immediately, swerved and ducked to copy Harry's move but he was a split-second too late. Harry heard the crack of the Death Eater's broomstick as its end rammed up against one of the tree's large branches. He glanced back to see the Death Eater spin around on his half broomstick and crash harmlessly into a bed of ferns. Harry continued to dodge and weave through another two trees as he heard the Death Eater's wand fire crash against a tree just behind him.

Once he was satisfied that the Death Eater was far behind him with no means to fire or pursue, Harry aimed his Firebolt back up into the sky.

* * *

Ginny and Dean continued to sit hand in nervous hand, occasionally looking up at one another's eyes but both afraid to speak out loud the anxiety they now felt. Their uneasy gloom seemed to mirror most of the occupants of the Gryffindor common room who also sat mostly in silence, food and drink laid out on the tables in front of them, but mostly left untouched..

Ginny was vaguely aware out of the corner of her eye that Seamus had moved toward the open window and was looking outside vacantly. She quickly turned her attention back to Dean and her own troubled thoughts. After a few more minutes, she became aware that Seamus was fidgeting disconcertedly. She felt like snapping something at him when Dean looked up and said:

"What is it, mate?"

Seamus turned back around frowning.

"I can't say for sure but I think you'd better take a look."

Dean looked over at Ginny for a moment then got up and walked over to the window himself. Both of them succeeded in distracting Ginny's attention as they whispered to themselves and kept pointing at something in the sky. Then Dean turned around and said:

"I think you'd better see this, Ginny."

Ginny got up and walked toward the window. She was surprised to find a strong autumn wind blowing into her face as the patterns of the seasons started to change as if on cue with the start of the school year. She looked across the grounds to the Forbidden Forest but nothing seemed remarkable; it was all so – quiet.

"What?" she asked Dean.

Dean took hold of Ginny's shoulder and pointed up to the bright moon shining above them.

"Just keep looking," he said.

Ginny glanced up to see a small cloud moving slowly toward the moon, and then for an instant, something else. A black blur seemed to rise out of the forest near the horizon; it passed over the moon and turned direction. Then another followed and then another just above the first. Ginny squinted as a gust of wind sprang up and stung her eyes. Like Harry earlier that evening, Ginny thought at first that they must be large birds, but they didn't seem to move like birds. Rather, they moved just like...

Ginny suddenly felt her heart flutter.

No, it couldn't be.

* * *

Harry didn't need his wand to show him the way this time. As his Firebolt flew above the treetops, Harry could see the lights from the Hogwarts castle glowing above the horizon just to his right. One lone Death Eater flew just behind and to his left. Harry goaded his Firebolt on. If he could just keep going a little bit longer, he would make it over the grounds and provided that all was well, there was a good chance the Death Eater wouldn't follow him. He could see from his peripheral vision that the Death Eater was gaining on him and it wasn't long before he was dodging the crack of wand fire again. As the Death Eater moved closer, Harry could see long blondish-white hair trailing behind him.

Lucius Malfoy, Harry realized at once. He should have known.

In between dodging Malfoy's curses, Harry thought quickly to himself. He was fairly sure that five Death Eaters had survived his diversion and chased after him: one had collided into his fellow rider when Harry had dived into the forest the first time; one had been attacked by the spider (Harry still shuddered at the thought), and one had just spun out into the undergrowth. That left two Death Eaters. Where was the other one? Harry realized that it must be the wandless rider who was missing. Perhaps he had disapparated to get another wand. Perhaps –

Harry realized only too late what had happened. The wandless rider landed on top of him with a bone-jarring crash. Rough hands grabbed hold of Harry's shoulders and tried to force him off his broom. Harry hung on desperately to the undercarriage of the Firebolt, and fought back pressing his strength against the Death Eater. He finally landed a blow to the side of the Death Eater's head and swung down hard with his hands to send the Death Eater's broomstick crashing down into the trees below. Now the two of them hung perilously onto Harry's Firebolt. Harry felt the shaft of his broomstick crushing against his stomach as he and the Death Eater sandwiched it between them. The Firebolt now twisted and turned circles in the air, dangerously close to the top of the trees. Harry's stomach felt like it had flown into his throat as sky and earth spun around and around. He vaguely became aware of the towers of Hogwarts starting to loom ahead of them but the Firebolt was no longer traveling in a straight direction.

* * *

Ginny stared at the impossible scene that had emerged before her eyes. It seemed there were three riders now, two of them hanging onto the same broomstick while the other flew nearby with his wand outstretched. She didn't dare hope what she was seeing was real. She didn't dare hope that one of the riders could be Harry. She reached into her pocket and drew out her wand pointing at the spot of sky above the forest where the riders were now twirling figure eights in the sky.

"Lumos Solarum!" she cried.

A bright beam of light flew out from Ginny's wand across the Hogwarts grounds and out toward the three riders. To her right, Dean and Seamus followed suit. Their combined wand lights were still too far away to shine on the riders, but the cries of the three Gryffindors attracted the attention of their housemates. Within moments, the windows were full of Gryffindors. There were numerous cries of "lumos solarum" and a few dozen wand lights shot out from the tower to blanket the night sky.

* * *

Harry continued to wrestle with the Death Eater. The two of them clung onto each other and the broomstick so tightly that it was impossible for either to free his fist for a blow. Harry finally managed to release his left hand and punch the Death Eater in the chin but he still clung onto the broomstick. Harry reached up again to strike but the Death Eater ducked his face to avoid the blow and Harry made contact only with the Death Eater's mask which came off and fell down into the forest below.

Harry gasped as he saw the crooked-toothed face of former Slytherin Quidditch captain Marcus Flint snarling back at him.

The distraction was all that Flint needed. He grabbed his hands around Harry's throat and began to shake him vigorously.

"Flint," he heard Malfoy's silky voice call from somewhere nearby. "Hold him still so I can get a clear shot. Then we can end this!"

Harry tried to wriggle out of Flint's chokehold but it was no use. His eyes began to water as Flint tightened his grip. Suddenly, out of the corner of his vision, Harry saw something large and white fly into view and dive right at Flint's face.

Flint screamed and tried to swat the invader away. In the distraction, Harry wrestled himself out of Flint's grip and, without stopping to think, planted a hard kick into Flint's stomach.

The Death Eater screamed as he lost his balance and felt off the Firebolt and down into the branches of a tall tree below.

Harry swung himself back on top of the Firebolt just in time to feel the light from Lucius Malfoy's death curse scream past his ear. There was a squawk beside him and Harry turned around properly to see what it was that had saved him.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed.

Harry caught his bearings for a moment. The struggle with Flint had taken him further away from the school grounds but he could still see the castle lights not far ahead of him. Malfoy was still right on top of him, his mask now fallen off, dirt and blood lining his normally well-groomed complexion.

"Avada Kedavra!" Malfoy cried.

Harry pulled the Firebolt straight up into the sky to avoid Malfoy's curse. He kept flying higher and higher and felt the swirling wind start to take hold of the broomstick.

Malfoy lost direction for a moment but was soon in pursuit.

Harry finally straightened his broomstick and found himself very high in the sky. He realized he must be somewhere around three or four hundred meters above the tops of the trees. The school grounds lay sprawled out just ahead of him and he suddenly saw the tips of all the wand lights coming from the top of Gryffindor Tower. They must have seen him. Perhaps that also meant that Voldemort had not managed to take over the school. Harry felt his heart swell with hope again. If only he could hang on just a little longer.

Malfoy finished his ascent and straightened his broomstick to fall just behind Harry. Suddenly, both riders were hit with jolts of turbulence as high heavy winds tossed them about like feathers. Harry tightened his grip on the Firebolt. Malfoy tried to fire but he kept missing wildly and he finally had to use both of his hands just to keep control of his buffeting broomstick. It was just as Harry had planned.

"I told you, Potter," Lucius Malfoy cried into the night air. "I told you you'd meet the same end as your parents one day! Think about it, Potter: in the end, your parents were finally defeated, your godfather got what he deserved, and now, finally, you will go to join them!"

Harry did not gratify Malfoy with a response. He knew that the Dark Wizard was trying to eat away at his nerve because he could no longer reach him with his wand. Harry concentrated his anger at Malfoy through his broomstick and egged it down toward the school. In a few moments, he would pass over the threshold of the Forbidden Forest and across the perimeter onto the grounds. He swung his head around and saw Malfoy beginning to pull back. It was working. He couldn't or wouldn't follow him to Hogwarts. Harry had escaped. He had made it.

Harry was so consumed in his reverie, however, that he did not notice Malfoy flying down out of the wind to release his wand hand yet again. He was too far away to see the shrewd smile that curled up the sides of Malfoy's face and he was out of earshot when Malfoy took out his wand and cried out into the night:

"Accio Firebolt!"

Harry suddenly felt a hard jerk on his hands. His broomstick was slipping away from his grasp underneath him. He struggled to hold on but it was no use. He swung backwards and felt his hands slide away from the handle. Harry made a final desperate grasp at the bristles at the end of his beloved broomstick but finally came away with only these in his hand. He caught a brief glimpse of his Firebolt flying through the air into Malfoy's waiting grip. Malfoy took hold of it and then spun away in the opposite direction.

Harry tumbled backwards and felt his momentum carry him over the school grounds. He let out an ironic laugh he did not know he had been holding. In the end, he had finally made it home.

But Harry also knew that he would never be able to survive a fall from this height. He watched the earth below him loom closer and closer. Lucius Malfoy had been right: Harry had resisted the Dark Lord for longer than anyone could have dreamed possible but now he, too, was going to die.


	4. Meetings And Partings

Chapter 4

Meetings and Partings

Harry continued to pick up speed as he tumbled out of the sky. He tried frantically to think of a spell that could save him, but his mind seemed to go blank. He remembered how his broomstick had flown out of control his first year when it had been enchanted by Professor Quirrell. No one had seemed to know how to bring him down safely then and it seemed very doubtful that anyone could save him now.

* * *

Ginny looked out of the window in horror. She could see by the combined light of the wands shining out from Gryffindor Tower that the remaining broomstick-less rider was falling from very high in the sky. She was vaguely aware of spells being cast by the Gryffindors around her but none seemed to stop the falling rider. She tried to think of something herself but her mind seemed to just cloud over with panic. She didn't dare to think that it might be Harry falling from the sky. Whoever it was badly needed their help, but everything was happening so fast.

* * *

Hermione and Ron looked up suddenly as a white blur flew in through the open window of Dumbledore's office.

"Hedwig!" cried Ron.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. They could both see that each other was thinking the same thing. Hedwig had survived the attack on Privet Drive. Did they dare to take any hope from this?

Before their imaginations could carry them away, Ron and Hermione's attention was forced back to Hedwig. Still flapping her wings furiously in the air, the snowy owl flew directly over to Fawkes and began squawking loudly. Fawkes responded only by cocking his head inquisitively as though in disapproval of Hedwig's undignified behavior.

Then Fawkes unfolded his enormous wings causing Ron and Hermione to jump back. He jumped out of the window and into the night. Ron and Hermione looked at each other again for a moment as he left, then quickly ran to look out of the window.

* * *

Ginny stood frozen to the spot as she watched the figure fall faster and faster down toward the earth. Suddenly Dean grabbed her shoulder and pointed her into another part of the sky. Ginny turned to her right and felt her heart skip a beat. Someone was coming to the rescue. She watched as Fawkes gracefully arched away from the castle. With two effortless beats of his tremendous wings, he had easily swept over the grounds to where the rider was falling.

Ginny and the other Gryffindors kept their wands pointed in the direction of the falling rider. They could see Fawkes start to close on his position but the rider was almost to the ground. Was he going to make it?

* * *

Harry watched the ground move ever closer. He was now almost level with the top stands of his beloved Quidditch pitch. Looking to his right, he could see Hagrid's small hut loom into focus and remembered, as if in a dream, all of the nights he, Ron, and Hermione had shared there. In the few brief seconds before Harry knew he would make very hard contact with the ground, he tried to take comfort in the thought that he would at least die here, near his friends, not somewhere far away where he was not loved and not wanted, hearing only the chilling cries of Voldemort's merciless laugh in his final moment of the life like his parents had. He suddenly saw a large boulder loom right in front of him. Harry wondered whether he would feel any pain. He closed his eyes and braced himself for contact –

And felt two large talons dig into his back. Harry winced in pain as something grabbed onto him. He lifted off the ground, his face skirting so close to the earth that he could feel the fresh smelling grass of the lawn rise up through his nostrils. Harry looked up and saw the belly of Fawkes the Phoenix above him. He heard the enormous whoosh of Fawkes' powerful wingspan as he was carried back into the air. Harry let out an enormous giddy laugh. He laughed so hard his insides ached and tears streamed from his cheeks. He was going to live. He had looked death in the eyes and cheated it once again.

* * *

Gryffindor Tower erupted in loud cheers as Fawkes pulled the falling rider up from the ground. The cheers immediately died down, however, replaced by a hush of anticipation as it became clear that Fawkes was returning with the rider straight up toward them. It wouldn't do very well if it was Voldemort he was carrying in his claws.

Ginny felt her legs start to weaken and could swear her heart had stopped dead still as Fawkes moved the figure closer and closer. He was moving quickly and it was only moments before the figure was on top of them and they could see him clearly.

It was Harry's glasses that Ginny noticed first, the thin black frames reflecting the light of their outstretched wand lights. Then came the dome of jet black hair, the bangs blowing in the wind to reveal Harry's unmistakable lightning bolt scar. However strange the tale was this time, there could be no doubt that this was Harry Potter.

A loud cheer went up from Gryffindor Tower as Harry raised his fist triumphantly in the air. It was as if they had just won the House Cup. Seamus started a chant of "HA – RRY, HA – RRY." Ginny tried to join in but her cries caught in her throat; soon she, like Harry before her, was overcome with a wonderful excited laughter that made her whole body feel warm. The Boy Who Lived was alive.

Fawkes suspended Harry outside of the Gryffindor Tower window for a moment, and then swooped him away in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Harry saw the long narrow windows of Dumbledore's office come into view and Ron and Hermione's faces staring out to him from the window. They backed away as Fawkes gracefully maneuvered Harry through the narrow opening before coming to rest himself on his familiar perch.

Both Ron and Hermione took three steps backward and stared at Harry, their mouths wide open and their faces devoid of all color. Harry was grinning widely and started to move toward Ron and Hermione but his two friends remained rooted to the spot, their mouths wide open. They stood this way for several seconds then Hermione ran up and flung her arms around Harry causing him to lose his balance and step back. She held on tightly for a few seconds, then stepped back to look at Harry, her eyes screwed up and tears running down her cheeks.

"How did you – " she cried. "Where did you – " She suddenly punched Harry hard in the shoulder. "You bloody idiot!" she declared.

"Ow," said Harry. "Nice to see you, too."

Hermione flung her arms back around Harry again and wailed almost as loud as she had when McGonagall had just told her Harry had died.

Finally, Hermione reluctantly let go of Harry and stood to one side, sobbing and smiling at the same time. Then Harry looked at Ron. He immediately felt a lump start to form in his throat as he saw Ron's eyes start to water over.

"A - All right, mate?" asked Ron. He held out his hand.

Harry didn't answer. He reached over and grabbed Ron into a massive bear hug.

"Ow, Jesus, Harry," said Ron as he pulled away. "Careful."

Hermione looked Harry up and down. His face was cut and bleeding and his right trouser leg was completely torn off; he sported a large gash on his ankle.

"What happened to you?" she asked, astonished.

Harry's smile faded and his face clouded over suddenly.

"My aunt, uncle, and cousin. Professor Lupin," he said. "I don't know – "

He was interrupted when the door to the office opened and McGonagall walked back in followed by Dumbledore.

McGonagall looked at the trio and gave a small gasp.

Dumbledore walked forward to Harry. "I'm afraid that Hogwarts does not normally accept transfer students."

"Oh." Harry looked from McGonagall to Dumbledore. "But I'm – "

Harry stopped as he saw a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye and then smiled.

McGonagall collapsed into tears and took out her spotted handkerchief again. She stepped toward Harry haltingly and then grabbed him into an awkward hug. "How do you always manage to get yourself into so much trouble?" she asked.

"I – I suppose I'm a little bit late for the feast," Harry muttered.

"Not to worry, Harry," said Dumbledore. "The feast was cancelled in your honor. But I think we can arrange something for tomorrow evening under the circumstances. As for now, please sit down."

Dumbledore conjured up three more chairs and a full range of tea and fresh warm food. Hedwig flew over from where she had been standing near Fawkes and nipped Harry affectionately on the hand. Harry took a large plate of chocolate and fed Hedwig gratefully. Fawkes himself then flew over and bowed his head reverently causing his tears to fall and heal Harry's ankle where it had been bitten by the spider. Harry then turned around and Fawkes dropped tears down his back where he had grabbed him. Finally, he rubbed his head affectionately in Harry's hands. Harry cupped his hands and then smeared the teardrops all over his face and neck and his small cuts and bruises cleared.

But Hermione couldn't fail to notice that Harry still did not smile.

Dumbledore took a large bite of an apple tart and chewed it carefully as if he had all the time in the world. Hermione found herself looking at him rather expectantly and looked around to see that Ron, Harry, and McGonagall were all doing the same.

"And now, Harry," he finally said. "I think we'd all very much like to hear how you came to be with us this evening."

Harry took a deep breath and was just about to start when the door to Dumbledore's office opened again and the Potions master Severus Snape glided in. He briefly took in McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the trio of friends. If he was surprised to see Harry still alive, he did not show it.

"Headmaster," he said stoically. "I believe this gentleman has some news for the Order."

Hermione stiffened as she noticed for the first time that Snape was not alone. Walking in behind him, almost having managed to escape all notice, was a very strange figure indeed. Hermione was sure that it must be an ogre or a hag. She was sure that if Snape had not said so, it would have been difficult to tell right away whether it was even male or female. He was very short, at least a head shorter than Hermione. Hunched over on a walking stick, with long hair as white as Dumbledore's own, the figure was clad only in a tattered blue cloth that stretched from the top of his head down to his calloused blackened ankles and bare feet.

At a certain noise to her right, Hermione quickly looked back to her companions at the table. Dumbledore and McGonagall had risen to their feet, identical expressions of surprise on their faces. It was obvious to Hermione that they recognized the figure, but how they would come to know someone like this she couldn't imagine. Was he some sort of spy? Hermione looked back at Ron and Harry to see that they seemed just as bewildered as her.

But if any of the three friends thought that what had seen to this point was unusual, the exchange that followed next was truly bizarre.

Hermione's attention was turned back to Dumbledore as it became clear that he was speaking again, a very strange look in his eyes.

"Well, perhaps we should hear it directly from his own mouth."

Hermione looked expectantly at the crooked figure, wondering what he could possibly say that would be of interest to them.

The ogre-like being opened his mouth revealing a sparse collection of horribly blackened teeth. Hermione winced as a wave of rancid breath blew out.

"Gladly, Professor," it croaked, in a high, raspy voice that reminded Hermione of a rusty door being moved on its hinges. "Put perhaps you would be so kind as to put me out of my misery first. After all, your wand skills are a little better than mine."

Dumbledore's twinkle seemed to brighten.

"You flatter me as always," Dumbledore replied. "But I would be happy to oblige."

He reached into his pocket and slowly took out his wand.

Hermione was not at all sure what Dumbledore could do to put this thing out of its misery or why he might be so inclined. She found herself half-expecting Dumbledore to administer a killing curse.

She watched as Dumbledore aimed his wand carefully at the hag and said:

"Aparecium Restorem."

"Thank you, headmaster," said the soft, measured tones of Remus Lupin. "I think this will make things considerably easier."

Before Hermione could remember to take her next speechless breath, Harry had stood up and was walking over to Lupin. They stood facing each other saying nothing for the moment, much as Harry had done when first reuniting with Hermione and Ron. Then Lupin stepped forward and clasped Harry into an embrace which was returned with equal enthusiasm and after a few seconds, it became clear that Harry was the more reluctant to let go. When he did, Hermione could see that, despite his best attempts to conceal it, his eyes were red and puffy from crying.

Partly out of curiosity and partly to draw everyone's attention away from Harry, Hermione turned to Dumbledore and said:

"I didn't know you could do that."

"As a matter of fact, I've only just learned the spell myself," replied Dumbledore.

"You still learn spells?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"Yes, Hermione," replied Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling again.

"But what was it?" asked Ron. "Polyjuice Potion?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

It was Snape who replied, sounding somewhat reluctant to be talking.

"The potion has been recently developed," he continued laconically. "It is, at present, known only to members of the Order. It acts much faster than ordinary Polyjuice Potion, lasts longer, and its effects can be removed instantaneously with the casting of the counter-curse you just witnessed. Each of the members of the Order has a unique disguise which is recognized only to the other members, although, in theory, as with the original Polyjuice potion, anyone can change into the form of the wizard and witch of his choosing, provided he adds something of their bodies to the mixture."

"Severus is too modest to mention that the potion was developed by him," added Lupin.

Hermione could not detect any sarcasm in Lupin's statement but Snape suddenly stared over at him with a look of hatred, as if Lupin had just delivered an unforgivable insult.

There was another somewhat awkward moment of silence before Dumbledore cleared his throat, then turned back to Snape and said:

"Thank you, Severus, Minerva. It appears that Harry and Remus have both managed to find their way here. If you could please inform the prefects that the situation is presently under control and that classes will be held as scheduled tomorrow."

If Snape and McGonagall were offended at being left out of the ensuing conversation, they did not show it. McGonagall gave a curt nod to Dumbledore and flashed a brief wink at Harry that only he noticed. Snape merely nodded and left without another word, his eyes darting searchingly among the trio of friends as if suspecting them of some underhandedness in securing Harry and Lupin's survival.

"Well," said Dumbledore, looking around brightly after the door had closed behind them. "If you'd both like to sit down and have some refreshment, perhaps you can begin to share your remarkable stories."

But Harry did not look very much like he wanted to sit down.

"How?" he suddenly demanded of Lupin, almost as if it was his fault for being alive. "How did you escape? The house burned down – there was no – my aunt and uncle – how did you just change like that – what did - "

Lupin held up his hand.

"Steady on, Harry," he said calmly.

"Hang on," said Ron. "What burning house? I'd like to hear the story from the beginning!"

Hermione shot Ron a deeply reproving look.

"I think perhaps for Harry's sake, I'd better begin with my own tale, Ron," replied Lupin.

"Wait, before we start," said Hermione, earning nasty looks from Harry and Ron and an expression of patient interest from Dumbledore.

Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at Lupin.

"You look a right mess, professor," she declared. "You can't go on talking like that. Scourgify."

Harry noticed for the first time that what Hermione had said was indeed true. While Lupin did not seem quite as cut and bruised as Harry had, he looked scarcely less scruffy than the figure that had first entered the office. His hair was mangled, his robes more torn even more than usual, but most noticeably, he appeared to be covered from head to toe in soot.

Which completely cleared away once Hermione's charm had finished its work.

"Excellent spell work as usual, Hermione," said Lupin pleasantly. "It reminds me of how much I miss having you as my student."

"Can't you come back and teach us?" asked Ron hopefully.

"I'm afraid not."

Lupin lowered his eyes and for a moment it seemed to Harry that a light had gone out inside. Then their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher raised his head again and said:

"Now perhaps I should begin at the beginning."

Lupin sat down, adjusted his robes somewhat carelessly, and started to talk.

"Your aunt, uncle, and cousin are safe, Harry," were the first words out of his mouth.

Harry exhaled a breath he hadn't been sure he was holding. As much he loathed the Dursleys and strongly believed that they deserved almost any misfortune that might come to them, he wasn't sure they deserved to die and was even much more certain that he didn't want their deaths on his conscience.

Lupin took a sip of pumpkin juice and continued with his story.

"Dedalus Diggle relieved me last night. I had volunteered to take the last shift to make sure Harry was safe until the Ministry came to fetch him." Lupin sighed suddenly. "Call it a premonition if you like. And Dedalus can be rather…"

Lupin broke off and looked at Dumbledore cautiously who nodded.

"…excitable," Remus finished. "I thought it best if I stayed and it was fortunate that I did. It was still early in the evening when the Death Eaters came. There were about a dozen of them. I knew Voldemort could check for invisibility cloaks so I quickly made use of a disillusionment charm and placed a vaporization hex on the cloak. I was surprised to see them there but I also didn't want to wait to find out whether they could really break the old magic. By the time they had started to scan the area for signs of invisibility cloaks, there was little doubt left in my mind. I waited only to make sure I was still undetected and then apparated into the house. I had the emergency portkey I had planned ready with me. Harry realized the urgency of the situation, of course, but persuading his aunt and uncle proved a much more difficult matter. It was while I was attempting to reason with them that I could start to feel the heat of the Death Eater's fire on the house. They themselves and their spells would have been invisible to the Muggles watching outside, of course; all they would have seen was what appeared to be an imploding house but I knew that if the Dursleys tried to escape they would just be incinerated nonetheless."

"He must have found a way to use a Abrectus charm," mused Dumbledore.

Lupin nodded. "I thought so as well."

"Sorry?" said Ron, a little irritably.

Dumbledore smiled at Ron engagingly.

"A form of indirect magic," he explained. "Voldemort could break the old magic protecting Harry at his relatives only if the Death Eaters attacked the house in which Harry was standing. That was why they couldn't apparate in and attack him directly or I've little doubt we wouldn't be having this conversation now. Of course, it probably also meant that Voldemort himself could not participate directly in the siege. Please continue, Remus."

"It wasn't long before the house started to fill with smoke. I kept trying to reason with the Dursleys but time was running out. Finally, Harry lost consciousness and I knew that I couldn't wait any longer. I clutched the portkey into his hand and activated it."

"Why didn't you go with me?" Harry demanded.

Remus turned to look at him with a determined, almost defiant look in his grey eyes.

"It was duty to make sure that everyone in the house left alive, Harry."

Harry felt a renewed disgust and anger spring up inside him at the Dursleys. They had nearly gotten both him and Lupin killed.

"But whatever did you do?" asked Hermione. "You were trapped without your only means of escape!"

Lupin looked at Hermione and smiled an ever so slightly self-confident smile.

"Not quite, Hermione," he replied. He became serious again. "After Harry was safely away, the Dursleys began to cower under their kitchen table. I realized that I wouldn't be able to persuade them any longer and I was also starting to succumb to the smoke. I quickly cast a Figurus charm over the house." Lupin looked quickly over at Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "A kind of three-dimensional photograph with a spell that would confuse anyone entering the house into thinking they were seeing the real thing."

"Over the whole house?" asked Dumbledore. "Impressive."

"I left the flames out of the image, of course, so that they would appear to have incinerated the Dursleys under the table. I also added a false Harry to the image so that it would appear he had been burned as well."

Harry shook his head in confusion.

"Think of putting a picture next to a Muggle movie, Harry. The flames are the movie and the picture is, in this case, a still picture. The flames will continue to move and spread until they burn what is in the picture. But it's a picture; it's not really real except to the eyes of anyone walking in the house. Do you see?"

"I think so," replied Harry, still frowning. "But then what happened to the real Dursleys?"

"As I said," Lupin continued. "I could see that the time for persuasion had ended. When the Order was planning possible escape routes from your aunt and uncle's house in case of an attack over the summer holidays, Harry, Molly and Arthur mentioned that they had once connected your house to the floo network so that they could bring you to the Burrow. It wasn't difficult to connect it again."

"With a link to Order headquarters," added Dumbledore, frowning. "And we all waited for you there in case you and Harry would turn up, but when you didn't, we could only conclude the worst."

Lupin nodded. "I'm afraid that by the time I activated the link in the fireplace, the fire outside had made it unstable."

"Hang on," said Harry. "The Dursleys had the wall in front of the fireplace doubly reinforced after the last time the Weasleys came in to get me. How did you get to it?"

"Oh," said Lupin, as if surprised to have been asked the question. "That part was easy: I blew it up."

Ron grinned.

"Getting the fireplace to work to the floo network was much more difficult, however. I asked the Dursleys one more time, very politely, to come with me but it seemed that even after the unmistakable danger in which they found themselves, they still couldn't bring themselves to do it. So I put them into body binds – apologizing first, of course - used some floo powder, called for Number 12 Grimmaud Place, and levitated them into the fire one by one."

For the first time since his ordeal had begun the previous day, Harry managed to smile at the mental image of a bound up Dudley floating into his blown up fireplace.

"I managed to jump in after them just as the walls were coming crashing down behind me. The connection was so unstable at first that I thought we'd never make it away from the burning house but then we finally came out to a different fireplace somewhere although I could tell right away that it was not Grimmaud Place. It was some sort of abandoned mansion, belonging to one of the old Death Eaters by the looks of things. Fortunately, it seemed to be unoccupied apart from a few old house elves. The Dursleys had managed to lose consciousness on the trip. I used some of the house elves to get us some food and drink and to get them revived and then I spent the rest of the time trying to figure out where we were and how to get back through the floo network.

"Once I'd persuaded the house elves to tell us where we had landed, I apparated back to Privet Drive. The house was in ruins, of course, and the Figurus charm had since worn off but since the Muggle police had already thought they had taken away the bodies, it didn't look much different, of course. I waited until cover of night and then performed a counter-curse on the house to restore it back to its original form."

"What!" said Ron incredulously. "Just like that?"

"Well it did take several hours," said Lupin, a little apologetically. "Anyway, once the house was back to normal, I made the rounds of the neighbors, posing as a door-to-door salesman. They were all a bit suspicious but they managed to open their doors enough to receive a small memory charm. I then reconnected the house to the floo network, and traveled back to the old mansion where your relatives were waiting, Harry."

Lupin raised his eyebrows slightly which was enough to tell Harry that he had left out several details about the Dursleys' reaction to his return.

"I sent them back through the floo network to your house. I knew it would only be a matter of time before the Death Eaters found out that their plan had failed and they would come looking for you, Harry, but I'm afraid I never dreamed they would be able to find you so easily. I changed my appearance so as not to arouse suspicion and then apparated to the portkey location but you had gone. Fearing the worst, I came back to Hogsmeade and ran back into the castle. I suspected to find everyone at the feast but the castle seemed empty. I finally ran into Severus and he brought me up here. But how you came to find yourself here, Harry, I can only imagine."

Harry found that all eyes in the room were turning expectantly to him.

And so Harry told them. About his scar hurting, about the Dursleys' reaction as Lupin had apparated into the house, how he had lost consciousness and found himself in the mountains, and then how the Death Eaters had found him and finally the chase on the broomsticks (here Hermione kept gasping while Ron cried "wicked!").

"And you're sure it was Lucius Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry nodded somberly.

"Then they did escape from Azkaban," said Lupin.

Dumbledore nodded again, looking the weariest he had since Harry had first returned.

"But how can it be that the Ministry really doesn't know?" asked Lupin again.

"I expect they do, Remus. I expect they do. I'm afraid we must face the fact that the Ministry has not been as forthcoming to both the Order and the public in general as they have pretended to be."

"Reckon ol' Fudge is still trying to cover things up, then?" asked Ron.

Hermione glared at him but Dumbledore simply nodded.

"I thought things seemed too quiet," said Harry.

"Fudge looks bad, of course," said Lupin quietly. "And admitting to another jailbreak would make him look worse."

Dumbledore put his fingers together thoughtfully. "I'm afraid this leaves the Order with little choice but to continue to make our plans independently for the time being."

"What about Harry?" asked Lupin. "If Voldemort found his way to Privet Drive – "

"We must presume that Hogwarts is still safe, at least for the time being," replied Dumbledore. "Otherwise Lucius would have followed him here. I'm afraid that, for now, that is all we know. There is no use to be gained in worrying. Whatever will happen, will happen. In the meantime, we must tread carefully."

Dumbledore looked across at Lupin again.

"Remus, I'd like you to contact the Order and arrange to have a continuing watch put on Harry's home. The Dursleys, do they know?"

"Oh," said Lupin in reply. "No, after I returned them to the house, I put a memory charm on them as well."

Harry breathed another sigh of relief. He was certain he did not want to have to deal with the Dursleys' stories of being floated through fireplaces and fed by curious house elves.

"Just as well," replied Dumbledore, as if echoing Harry's thoughts. He then sighed as if reaching a decision and fished into the pocket of his robes to produce a long envelope, which he then handed to Lupin. "If you wouldn't mind delivering this to Severus. It is charmed to open on his command. I will be in touch with you myself soon."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged puzzled glances.

Lupin received the envelope with a small nod, then stood up and turned to address Harry.

"I managed to bring your trunk along, too, Harry. I left it with the house elves to take up to your room."

Harry stood up also.

"When will I see you again, sir?" he asked in a slightly vulnerable tone.

Remus looked back a little furtively at Dumbledore before replying:

"Soon, I hope, Harry. Soon."

And with that, Lupin turned around and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.

"And if you, Ron, and Hermione, wouldn't mind returning to Gryffindor Tower," Dumbledore continued. He rose from his chair, followed quickly by Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "I trust you can find your own way back. I'm sure your fellow housemates will be pleased to hear of Harry's safe return. No doubt you can satisfy their curiosity, leaving out one or two indiscreet details, of course. If you all wouldn't mind, I should like to talk to Harry alone."

Ron and Hermione nodded and turned to leave.

"We'll wait up for you," said Ron.

Harry smiled and nodded, watching them go.

Dumbledore motioned back to the chair. "Please sit down again, Harry."

Harry sat down and so did Dumbledore. Now that they were alone together, Harry found it somewhat difficult to look the headmaster in the eye. The last time Harry had sat in this office only hours after Sirius had died, he had vented his frustration and despair on many of Dumbledore's fragile possessions. Looking quickly over to Dumbledore's desk, it seemed to Harry that many of them had been magically restored to their original order but Harry could not easily forget what had happened and, judging by the wary looks in the eyes of the former headmasters on the paintings surrounding the walls, he wasn't the only one. A deep sense of shame rose in Harry once more as he now realized that his outburst at Dumbledore had been his last desperate attempt to pin the blame for Sirius' death somewhere other than where it belonged: on his own shoulders.

If Dumbledore was contemplating any of these things, however, he did not show it: he quietly munched on a remaining square of apple tart and then finally turned to Harry and said:

"I do not want to lie to you, Harry. The situation is very serious. I did not think that Voldemort could have attacked your family's home or I would certainly never have left you there. I also did not believe he would strike so boldly and so soon. Something must be giving him added confidence. I need to find out what it is."

Harry nodded and swallowed. He could not honestly say he was surprised at what Dumbledore had told him. He knew that Dumbledore's plan to protect him had failed as soon as Privet Drive had been attacked. But to hear it from Dumbledore's own mouth was another thing.

"I also need to find out how it was that the Death Eaters found where you were hiding in the forest. The location of the portkey's endpoint should have been known only to members of the Order."

"Do you think there could be someone in the Order giving the Death Eaters information?"

"I fear it is likely, Harry, yes. Before you banished Voldemort the first time, it was always difficult to know whom to trust. I fear it is even more so now."

Harry nodded.

"I will, of course," Dumbledore went on, "do everything I can to ensure your safety this year, Harry, as well as the safety of all Hogwarts students and staff. And that means I must be personally involved. If Voldemort has seen fit to no longer operate from the sidelines, then neither can I. That is why I must tell you now, Harry," Dumbledore looked him directly in the eye, "that I cannot be your headmaster this year."

* * *

Ron and Hermione walked back along the deserted corridors toward Gryffindor Tower. Ron took such long forward strides that Hermione had to trot to keep pace.

"I bet they all think he's dead," said Ron, "just wait until we tell them!"

"Honestly, Ron," replied Hermione. "I don't know how you can carry on like this. I'm still a mess," but she could not stop herself from beaming at the thought of Harry's safe recovery.

After leaving Dumbledore's office via the spiral staircase, Ron and Hermione had to walk down another two flights of steps and move alongside the Great Hall near the main door before they could reach the moving staircases that led up to Gryffindor Tower. They were just passing through the corridor that led onto the staircase in front of the entranceway when there was a sudden unexpected sound.

Ron and Hermione stopped.

"Did you hear that?" asked Ron.

Hermione nodded. "It sounded like someone was opening the main door. But the students should all be up in their dormitories. I suppose it could be a teacher, or Filch."

Ron's eyes widened suddenly. "You don't think it could be – "

Hermione looked back at Ron, her face slowly losing its color.

There was another loud thud that sounded like the door being closed, followed immediately by the sharp, impatient clack of boots on stone. In the dim light, Ron and Hermione could make out a long, tall shadow that grew on the wall as its owner moved nearer the corner that Ron and Hermione were approaching from the other side. It certainly did not sound like Filch, whose footsteps were much more measured. Moreover, Filch's cat Mrs. Norris, who inevitably preceded him around any corner, was nowhere to be seen. Nor did it sound like the sweeping almost silent step of Professor Snape that Hermione and Ron knew all too well. These footsteps echoed loudly off the walls as if each step was trod in anger.

Hermione looked at Ron again. Swallowing nervously, both of the Gryffindors took out their wands and walked quickly forward to intercept the walker. The shadow grew longer on the floor. Any minute now and it would round the corner and its owner would run straight into Ron and Hermione. Ron hugged the corner while Hermione took the outside. His wand held out in front of him, Ron turned the corner at the same time as the walker continued his clip around.

There was a thump as Ron and the figure collided into each other and fell to the floor. Hermione rushed over. The figure rubbed his shoulder, his face still hidden in shadow.

Ron got up first and pointed his wand at the figure.

"Lumos."

Hermione gasped as the light of Ron's wand caught the face of Draco Malfoy, his mouth curled up in a cross between a sardonic smirk and a snarl. The normally well-kept Slytherin looked as if he had just wrestled with a giant man-eating plant and lost. His generally smooth slicked-back blond hair was pointing at sixes and sevens with what looked like pieces of twigs and fern leaves imbedded inside. Malfoy's face was darkened with sot. Dozens of small cuts lined his forehead and a thick gash creased the side of his face. His robes were caked with earth and torn in several places. He clutched protectively in his hands the bottom half of his Nimbus 2001 broomstick. Jagged bits of wood stuck up in the middle where the top half of the stick had obviously been wrenched off.

Malfoy stood up and drew himself up to Ron. They were about equal height and Hermione noticed that each lifted his head to gain an extra few centimeters, like two large elks preparing to butt heads.

"Going somewhere, Malfoy?" asked Ron.

"Get out of my way, Weasley," snarled Malfoy in reply.

Malfoy tried to move ahead but Ron stuck an elbow in front to block his path.

"We missed you on the train, Malfoy," spat Ron through clenched teeth. "Isn't like you to miss a chance to visit us on the way out. You weren't in the prefect carriage either."

"I was busy," drawled Malfoy, shoving against Ron's elbow. "Anyway, I heard Potter wasn't around."

"And how would you know that?" asked Ron.

"Someone told me," replied Malfoy, his dirt-stained face suddenly broadening into a smirk. He tried to move sideways away from Ron, but found his path blocked by Hermione's wand.

"It's a bit windy for Quidditch, tonight, don't you think?" she said bitingly. "Especially when you're supposed to be in your dormitory. But you wouldn't know that, would you, if you've just come in?"

Malfoy turned to look at Hermione, narrowing his eyes menacingly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Granger. If you must know, I was bored," he said, a smile continuing to twitch around the corner of his lips. "I hadn't played all summer. It got windy; I lost my balance, and had a little accident. I was lucky to make it back here in one piece."

"I didn't think there were trees growing on the Quidditch pitch," retorted Hermione icily.

"I don't much care what you think, Granger," Malfoy spat back. "I don't have to answer to you. Now, for the last time, out of my way!"

Malfoy tried to sidestep Hermione but Ron moved to block his path and pushed him hard against the wall, shoving the end of his elbow up against Malfoy's neck.

"If I find out you were chasing Harry through the forest, Malfoy," Ron seethed, his face livid, "you'll be very, very sorry you ever showed your face in this castle again. Do you understand?"

"You – are – getting – very – annoying, Weasley," Malfoy croaked. He moved the end of his broomstick into his left hand and shoved it hard against Ron's stomach.

The blow caught Ron unexpectedly and he fell back hard onto the stone floor.

"Ron!" cried Hermione and ran over beside him.

Malfoy flexed his shoulder and stared down contemptuously at Hermione and Ron as if they were two small rodents he had just cleared out of his path.

"I'd be very careful if I were you," he warned. "The Dark Lord has already attacked Potter's little Muggle house. It won't be long before he makes it here and Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers will be the first to go."

Still wincing from the pain in his stomach, Ron tried to get up and go after Malfoy but Hermione restrained him.

"Don't," she said. "He's only trying to provoke you."

She helped Ron to his feet gingerly.

"Did you hear that?" he asked. "He all but admitted to us he's a Death Eater! He knew about their plan to attack Harry! Don't you think we ought to go back and warn Dumbledore?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"We'd better tell Harry first."

* * *

"But, sir," protested Harry anxiously. "How am I going to survive if the Death Eaters try to attack? Everyone knows you're the only reason they won't touch Hogwarts. You're the only one who's keeping the school together!"

Dumbledore smiled softly and gently rested his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I know this isn't easy for you, Harry, but you must trust me," he said gently. "If ever I have needed your faith, it is now. If I sit here, content in my own power, power I already know that Voldemort has begun to break, then there is no telling whether any at Hogwarts will remain any safer than your aunt and uncle's house. I have taken great means to protect your safety so long as you remain within this school. Arrangements will be put into place that were made long before Voldemort planned this particular attack. And if anything were to happen to Hogwarts while I was away, well," he said, a slight twinkle appearing in his eye once again, "you might be surprised at how quickly I could return."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, carefully choosing his words. "Now that you have been reunited with your friends I'm sure you will find it tempting to try and fight Voldemort on your own. Friendship brings with it great strength, but sometimes that strength can be deceptive. I'll admit I have been, shall we say, rather lenient in the past, even occasionally pointing you in the right direction when I felt there were demons that only you could bring to heel, but this year, I must ask you to leave the battle to me and the other members of the Order."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, surprised at the conviction in his voice.

"I know this year won't be easy for you, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "But I must ask you to try and find a way to concentrate on your lessons. It is not my intention to put you and your fellow classmates through a series of hoops as an academic exercise. Your classes are the only way you can finish your training, become a fully fledged wizard and help fight the darkness that took your parents and your godfather."

Harry swallowed and nodded.

"I know you will be busy with your classes this term as well as Quidditch practice and I wouldn't want to take that away from you but I will be scheduling you for extra private tutorials in Defense Against the Dark Arts in case you should have to defend yourself in a hurry. Professor Nevins, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, is an old friend of mine. He is also, like Professor Moody, a retired Auror. He taught your father also, Harry," Dumbledore added more quietly, "before the rise of the Dark Lord made him decide that his talents were needed elsewhere. He also has had a lot of," and here Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, "experience with Lord Voldemort. He will let you know of your schedule when your classes start."

Much of the latter part of what Dumbledore had just said had fallen on deaf ears, however, as Harry found himself consumed with the headmaster's first sentence.

"D – did you say Quidditch practice, sir?" Harry asked. "B – but I thought – "

Dumbledore gave Harry a half-smile and looked down at him through his glasses.

"Harry, let me make it very clear to you that what you did last year to Mr. Malfoy on the Quidditch pitch was inexcusable and should there be any such further incident, I'm afraid I may have to concur with Dolores Umbridge's judgment. However," Dumbledore paused. "It is my hope that the suspension from the team that you incurred this past year has taught you an adequate lesson. You are free once again to take part in Quidditch, that is, if the team will have you. As a matter of fact, I believe that Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch would like a word with you about your Quidditch duties as soon as possible."

Dumbledore smiled as Harry looked back at him with the amazement of a child. Did Dumbledore mean what Harry thought he did?

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore. "If you don't have any more questions, I think it best that I be getting along. I shall, of course, first escort you to the infirmary."

"But, sir," protested Harry. "I don't need to go. Honestly, I don't. Fawkes already healed me. I – "

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Harry, I'm sorry, but I must insist, just to have you checked."

"But," Harry protested, thinking of his resolutions of the summer. "Please, sir. I'm sure it's nothing that a good night's rest won't cure and my friends – my friends might be worried about me and I – I haven't seen them in ages."

Dumbledore held up his hand again but lowered it as he saw the beseeching look in Harry's eyes. Dumbledore knew all too well what Harry's friends meant to him and how it was often times little more than their support that had kept him from succumbing to unalloyed grief and despair. Dumbledore also felt an anxious twinge of something else as he looked into Harry's eyes and was afraid it looked very much like guilt.

"Very well, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I suppose since I am leaving in any case that I shall manage to escape Madam Pomfrey's wrath. However, I shall expect you to check yourself into the infirmary first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning. Please mind that you do."

Harry nodded. "I will."

"In that case," said Dumbledore, gathering his hat and cloak from a nearby stand. "I shall escort you to Gryffindor Tower."

"Sir," said Harry, after a moment's pause. "If you won't be here, who will be headmaster?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I will have to leave that for you to find out with the other students, Harry. It wouldn't really be fair for me to tell you alone and the new headmaster is a bit touchy about rumors."

Harry began to protest but Dumbledore had already snapped his fingers, causing a short house-elf to appear from a previously unnoticed corner of the office.

"Winky," said Dumbledore. "If you could please arrange for my carriage out of the school grounds and ask several of the house elves to gather some of my belongings. I will be making a journey."

"Yes, headmaster, sir," replied Winky.

"Winky?" gasped Harry in astonishment.

Winky had been the house-elf of the Crouches and had last been seen admitting to having helped Bartemis Crouch, Jr. escape from his seat during the World Quidditch Cup and launch the Dark Mark into the sky. She had then come to work with Winky at Hogwarts but Harry hadn't seen her since his fourth year. He had occasionally wondered what had happened to the house-elf and couldn't understand how she had managed to pull herself together enough to do much of anything. But the Winky who had just wandered into (or out from within) Dumbledore's office was nothing like the dirty, disheveled house elf he had last seen two summers ago. She now wore a new smart-looking white apron with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the front. A bright orange sock covered her left foot and a yellow and green striped sock her right. Despite their unusual colors, both socks seemed tidy and clean.

"Harry Potter, sir!" smiled Winky, clasping her hands together. "A surprise to see you, sir! Dobby will be most pleased to hear that you have survived the Dark Lord once again, not to mention the evil dark wizards he once worked for!"

Harry smiled. Winky had definitely changed a great deal since he had last seen her if she was willing to speak ill of another house elf's family, even if it had not been her own. "Please tell Dobby I'll come to see him soon."

Winky's big eyes widened. "Harry – Potter - come – to – see – Dobby, sir?"

"Well, yes, I'm afraid it's been several months. Please tell him – "

But Winky had broken down in heavy, wrenching sobs.

"No, Winky, please, please don't. I didn't mean – "

"Oh, Harry Potter is too kind, too great, sir. Winky is overcome as Winky is sure Dobby will be, too, when he hears the news." Winky blew her nose heavily into her apron and seemed to gather herself together. "And Winky also wishes that Harry Potter inform the noble Miss Hermione Granger that the house elves have convened and are considering her offer most seriously."

"Er, all right," replied Harry uneasily. He decided that whatever it was, he would stay as far away from it as possible. He looked over at Dumbledore, hoping that he hadn't heard anything, but Dumbledore had taken that opportunity to gently release Hedwig out of the window to fly to the owlery.

He looked back to Winky. "I've got to go now, Winky."

"Good luck, Harry Potter." Winky trotted over to a corner of Dumbledore's office and seemed to walk straight into a wall before it opened up at the last minute and swallowed her.

"Shall we go now, Harry?" asked Dumbledore patiently.

"Yes, of course." Harry straightened up. "Sorry, sir."

Dumbledore led the way out of the office and down the spiral staircase. "It has been far too long since I last made my way up the old tower," Dumbledore mused. "I really should get out and around more."

Harry wondered if he would need to slow down for Dumbledore but he soon discovered that he had hurry to keep up with the headmaster's sprightly pace. Harry wasn't really sure what more he could say to Dumbledore and he was grateful when Dumbledore seemed to be more preoccupied with little corners of the castle that needed cleaning and pointing out the shifting positions of the occupants in the paintings along the walls, each of whom bowed in respect as he passed.

For all of his protests to Dumbledore about wanting to return immediately to Gryffindor Tower and see his friends, Harry couldn't help but feel a knot form in his stomach. How would they react? He knew Ron would have told them most of what happened, but how much would they ask him? What would he be forced to relive? Harry suddenly had an irrational fear that they were all going to look down or turn away when he arrived, as one might when passing the immediate family at a funeral. He realized that that was silly, of course, but he couldn't completely let go of the fear. It felt to him at times that everyone he cared about seemed to vanish.

* * *

At that moment, Ron had become the center of attention in Gryffindor Tower. Encouraged by Seamus and Dean, he had climbed onto the top of one of the tables and was describing Harry's adventures in dramatic detail, punctuated only by the occasional gasps from Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown and shouts of "wicked!" from Dean and Seamus. Hermione noted that his account was more than three times as long as Harry's even after leaving out all of the sensitive details. Ginny stood directly under her older brother and found that her earlier anger at his privileged position had disappeared and she completely engrossed in the tale.

"And then," cried Ron, throwing his arms wide open. "Harry thought he was getting away but old Malfoy got hold of his broomstick – "

"He performed a summoning charm, Ron," Hermione could not stop herself from adding.

"Right," said Ron as if there had been no contradiction with his own account, "and Harry tried to keep hold but – "

Whatever it was Harry had tried to do next was lost in the hollow echo of a loud knock on the wall next to the portrait hole right outside of the Gryffindor common room. Ron stopped in surprise and everyone turned to look at the door. Ron didn't seem to feel like moving so Hermione shifted her way through the crowd in front of him and went to the door. It swung open as she approached.

"Who is it?" she asked. "Oh." She exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here, sir."

Much to everyone's astonishment, Dumbledore walked into the common room.

"Pardon me for interrupting anything," he said politely. "I'm afraid I did not know the password and it seemed rude to magic the door open. I believe you are missing one of your fellow students."

Dumbledore smiled and stepped to one side.

Harry entered the common room behind him and couldn't resist breaking out into a grin.

The common room was silent for a moment as everyone stared at Harry, almost unable to leave he was really there. Then Seamus started to clap and in the briefest of instants the common room resounded with applause and loud hooting.

Ginny watched as her fellow Gryffindors rushed forward to mob Harry. She moved ahead to join them but then she looked at Harry properly and something made her stop.

A nervous tingling sensation started to penetrate through her whole body. She realized that this was the first time she had seen Harry in person since she had been haunted by her vivid, lucid nightmares that summer, the nightmares in which Ginny had watched Harry die a hundred times over in the Chamber of Secrets, the nightmares in which Ginny had still been passionately in love with the Boy Who Lived. It suddenly seemed to Ginny as if all of the other Gryffindors who were rushing up to greet Harry were merely phantoms and he alone was real.

Ginny shook her head forcefully as if doing so could clear these illusions from her mind. She was sure she was blushing and felt suddenly nervous that Dean might be looking in her direction but he seemed focused on Harry as well. Then she dug the nails of her forefingers into her palms and took a deep breath. It was her nightmares that were speaking to her and Ginny was sure she did not want to listen to nightmares.

Buoyed by this thought, she stepped closer to Harry until finally she was standing right in front of him. She watched as Harry was hugged by Katie Bell and had his back slapped roughly by Seamus. Then he turned around and saw her.

Ginny was almost certain it was her imagination but it seemed that for the briefest of brief moments Harry stopped what he was doing and just looked at her. While Ginny could see that Harry's happiness was genuine, there was still a dark haunted look in the back of his eyes. He suddenly smiled a strangely shy smile that Ginny did not remember.

"Ginny," he said finally. "Th – thanks for your letters."

"It's OK, Harry," she replied, shocked to find out that the voice of her eleven-year-old self seemed to be coming out of her mouth. "It's good to have you back."

Before she knew what was happening, her arms had reached out at the same time as Harry's and with a small involuntary gasp she felt herself falling into his embrace. Ginny had just watched Harry hug a half a dozen girls and she tried to tell herself it should be no different for her but this thought was gone in almost an instant. As soon as Harry's arms had clutched hold of her back, Ginny knew that in the three years since he had carried her out of the Chamber of Secrets, Harry had not touched her once. She closed her eyes and grabbed him back tightly. The touch of his cheek against hers warmed her whole body like the heat of an open flame. A mixture of grass, wood, and perspiration from Harry's torn sweater and unruly hair filled Ginny's nostrils like a pungent spirit. As Harry started to pull away, Ginny looked up into his green eyes. At first, Harry still wore the large grin he had sported since returning to Gryffindor Tower but as he looked back at her, his smile faded slightly replaced by a look of surprise. Ginny could tell that her face was on fire and her breathing shallow. She knew that Harry had noticed. He had seen that for Ginny a hug had not been just a hug for it hadn't, had it? She found herself certain that Harry was about to say something when she felt Dean push in front of her and start to shake Harry's hand.

Ginny collapsed into a nearby chair like a mannequin dropped by its puppeteer. Let go of it, she tried to tell herself. It's just your mind playing tricks on you; you're over him now.

But Ginny found she couldn't let go so easily. She was for breath as if she'd just run a race. She looked up anxiously to see if anyone had noticed her reaction but was relieved to see that all eyes were focused on Harry.

But then one pair of eyes wasn't.

Ginny looked back to the door and stopped short in surprise as she noticed Dumbledore still standing there looking directly at her, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of wonder, fear, and pain. And then, noticed by no one but her, he quietly stepped back out of the doorway and vanished.

* * *

Well after their supposed bedtime, the party in Gryffindor Tower was just getting started. After five years of failure (not to mention one last explosion earlier that evening), Seamus finally succeeded in transfiguring the Gryffindor water pitcher into a keg of Butterbeer. Ron continued to take the lead in telling Harry's exploits against the Death Eaters and Harry did not bother to correct his increasing embellishments. Harry was free to talk about the European Quidditch cup with Dean and Katie, interrupted only when Colin Creevey ran up enthusiastically, having apparently spent the last hour developing a moving wizard picture he had taken of Harry waving his fist triumphantly while riding up to Gryffindor Tower on Fawkes. Finally, well past midnight, Professor McGonagall entered the tower and made it clear that Harry or no Harry, all students were expected to start classes the next morning – and be awake enough to understand what they were being taught.

As soon as she had left, Ron and Hermione took on the grudging responsibility of politely shepherding the residents of Gryffindor Tower up to their dormitories. Harry stayed behind on the pretense of clearing up. Seamus was the last to leave for the dormitories, drowsily closing the six-year boy's room door behind him with a loud belch. Suddenly wide-awake, Harry immediately turned to Ron and Hermione and told them about his conversation with Dumbledore.

"Blimey," said Ron. "Who's he going to pick as headmaster then?"

Harry shrugged. "He wouldn't say, only that the person had already been chosen."

"We've got loads to tell you, too, mate," said Ron.

Ron and Hermione told Harry about their encounter with Malfoy in the corridor.

Harry hit his fist into his palm. "Malfoy. I should have known."

"You should tell Dumbledore," said Ron. "You could get him expelled!"

Harry winced. "I would but he's gone."

"We'll just have to keep an eye on him ourselves," said Hermione.

Ron looked at Hermione in surprise.

"You've changed your tune lately."

"Well," said Hermione with a little hesitation. "I mean we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

Ron smiled.

"Fancy that, mate," he said to Harry. "Hermione finally – "

But Ron's smile faded as soon as he saw the stern look on Harry's face.

"Didn't you hear anything I just said?" he asked Ron angrily. "Dumbledore said we're not to get involved this year. It's just too dangerous!"

"You don't think Dumbledore really meant that, do you?" Ron smiled again.

"He might have done," replied Hermione, looking oddly mischievous, "but then he's not here anymore, is he?"

Harry still did not smile.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron, pouring the dredges of the pitcher of Butterbeer into three paper cups, two of which he gave out to Harry and Hermione. "They can mourn our passing in a couple of years but for now they'll have to put up with us." He held his cup up. "Cheers."

Hermione touched her cup to Ron's and both of them moved to toast Harry when he suddenly crushed his angrily sending the contents splashing all over his wrist and onto the floor.

Ron and Hermione stepped back, identical expressions of hurt surprise on their faces.

"YOU TWO STILL DON'T BLOODY WELL UNDERSTAND, DO YOU?" Harry shouted suddenly. "DUMBLEDORE SAID WE'RE NOT TO INTERFERE AND THIS YEAR I'M GOING TO LISTEN TO DUMBLEDORE!"

Ron held up his hands as if to defend himself. "Steady on, mate," he said.

"Keep your voice down, Harry!" said Hermione.

"I DON'T WANT TO KEEP MY VOICE DOWN!" yelled Harry. "IT'S JUST A GAME TO BOTH OF YOU, ISN'T IT? LET'S SOLVE ANOTHER MYSTERY, THEN GO TEARING OFF TO THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES AND GET SOMEONE ELSE KILLED! IT DOESN'T MATTER; IT'S NOT US."

"You weren't the only one who felt it when Sirius died, you know!" retorted Ron, suddenly angry.

"If you think this is just a game to us, you're wrong, Harry," asserted Hermione. "We're trying to protect you!"

"Oh yeah?" said Harry, his now hoarse voice only slightly less loud than before. "Well I think I should have the last say on whether I need protecting. And I think I'm going to leave that up to the Order this time, then maybe everyone will make it back in one piece this year!"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione for a moment, their faces looking every bit as crushed as the cup he had smashed in his hand. Even as he still felt anger pounding through his body, Harry could not help but start to regret his outburst but he did not feel much like apologizing either.

"I'm going to bed," he announced bluntly and as Ron and Hermione stood there dumbly watching him go, Harry turned on his heel and made his way up the staircase to bed. Without waiting to hear whether Ron had come back in the room, he quickly took his clothes off and got into bed. He pulled his hangings down around him and quietly cast a silencing charm on all four sides of his bed. Then he took his glasses off and laid his head down on his pillow, listening to the sound of his still quickened pulse in the vein on his neck.

As he closed his eyes, Harry realized that he had spent the whole summer ashamed of how his outbursts had made his two best friends feel and then, when against all odds they had been reunited, he had just gone and done it again. Harry started to sob and found in spite of his tiring ordeal, on this night, sleep would not come very easily.

* * *

In a darkened clearing of the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort surveyed the four Death Eaters who had returned from the forest chase. Two of them – Marcus Flint included – were covered almost completely in body casts, treated quickly by the shadowy doctors the Death Eaters had managed to pay off. Three were still missing. Only one of the four remaining Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy, appeared mostly unscathed, apart from the numerous small cuts around his face. At that moment, however, Draco Malfoy would have scarcely recognized his father. His normally arrogant, imposing demeanor had completely vanished. The dangerous glint in his eyes that inspired fear in his subordinates and respect from his son was replaced by an expression of powerless fear.

"A – And so," finished Malfoy, not quite looking Voldemort directly in the eye. "I – I thought that we had gotten rid of Potter at last, but I have now heard from my son that he survived the encounter. At the last instant, he was snatched up by Dumbledore's bird and flown to the castle." Malfoy stepped backwards nervously from where had been standing directly in front of Voldemort to re-take his position in the circle of Death Eaters.

Voldemort did not react immediately. There was a long sickening pause and a thick silence seemed to hang forever in the air. Even the animals in the forest seemed to keep an eerie quiet.

"And there is nothing else you wish to tell me?" Voldemort finally asked quietly.

"N – no, my Lord."

Voldemort was silent for a moment again and then his face broke into an unexpected smile. "It was quite clever of you, really, Lucius, to think of using a summoning charm. I must admit that your strategy would not have occurred to me. A pity," he went on, the smile remaining unnervingly fixed to his face, "that it couldn't have occurred to you just a little sooner. Potter would have likely died had he been forced to fall over the forest."

Voldemort stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, lost in thought. Malfoy could feel the pulse of his racing heart throbbing in his ears. Then with an almost graceful nonchalance, Voldemort flicked out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy, saying in a stage whisper:

"Crucio."

Malfoy fell back and let out a piercing scream which echoed horribly throughout the forest. He twisted and turned in the ground, his body roasting in a thousand small fires which seemed to have lit from his insides.

"You see," said Voldemort softly to the other Death Eaters. "It is really very simple. I always spare those who tell me the truth, however unpleasant." He looked to the ground where Malfoy was still writhing in agony and spoke to him as if he was capable of Voldemort's full attention. "There was one detail you omitted, Lucius, and it is fortunate that Lord Voldemort does not rely on one source of information alone. You needn't worry as I have already decided to forgive you. Your son, as useful as his information was to us in finding young Harry, was not able, in his enthusiasm, to resist sending the Dark Mark into the sky before the attack began, neatly alerting Potter of his dangerous predicament. No, I'm afraid that young Draco is not yet ready to fully join our little group.

"Nevertheless," Voldemort continued. "He is still inside the school and as I understand it, his contact remains undiscovered. He may be of use to us. We will, of course," and here Voldemort smiled very broadly, "have many spies at Hogwarts this year, some knowing and others only in the dark hidden corners of their minds. I think we have relied too much on noisy, costly adventures in the past couple of days. I will take full control of things now."

In actual fact, all of the plans the Death Eaters had sprung to this point had originated with Voldemort. But placing the blame for failure on others was an old trick that usually worked with a slight shift in semantics and a small measure of fear on the part of one's followers.

"Our new plan will be slow and subtle," Voldemort went on. "I must admit I have been very much looking forward to it. And if everyone plays their parts correctly, there is no reason at all why it should not succeed."


	5. Plans And Revelations

Chapter 5

Plans and Revelations

It was with great reluctance that Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a clean bill of health and allowed him to leave. Once gone, Harry half-walked, half-trotted across the lawn to await his fellow Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sixth-years near Hagrid's hut. Hagrid looked to be in the middle of explaining the properties of a slimy-looking bright orange creature about the size of a dog with a nose shaped like a giant trumpet. The creature kept blowing horn-like sounds into the air while Hagrid was holding it, making it very difficult to hear whatever he was trying to explain. It was impossible to tell whether the creature was indignant, nervous, or simply happy.

Hagrid caught sight of Harry and waved to him. He then tried to continue with the lecture but within seconds found himself overcome with emotion. He soon broke down in wrenching sobs that rivaled the trumpet-like creature in noise.

"I can' go on," he finally told the other students. "It's too much."

The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws tried not to sound too relieved at the premature end of class, but rapidly made their way back to the castle, several shaking their heads and scratching their ears on the way out. Ron and Hermione stayed.

"Yeh better take Beethoven." Hagrid handed the bright orange creature to Ron and drew Harry into a bone-crushing embrace.

"Thought yeh'd died." Hagrid wailed on.

"It's all right, Hagrid," Harry managed as he felt his skull being crushed.

Hagrid finally let go of Harry and blew his nose loudly into an enormous handkerchief. "Come on in ter the hut," he said. "I'll make yeh all some tea."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione accompanied Hagrid into his hut and sat down to enjoy a surprisingly good tea and some unsurprisingly awful rock cakes. Hagrid wanted to hear the whole story from Harry. Ron and Hermione were a little anxious that he would have to relive it but somehow for Hagrid, Harry didn't seem to mind. Ron added the part about his and Hermione's encounter with Malfoy in the hallway.

"Rotten ter the core, the whole lot of 'em," Hagrid said of the Malfoys. "An' ol' Lucius gettin' his way out o' prison and the Ministry hushin' it up an' all. These are dark times, they are. At least Dumbledore's back and that Umbridge woman's gone, though. Great man, Dumbledore. Found out about Grawp, he did. Reckon bloody Filch went an' told 'im. Thought he'd make 'im leave but he wouldn't 'ere anything of it."

"He let you keep that – that – "

Ron was cut short by the vicious shove of Hermione's elbow in his ribs.

"How is Grawp, Hagrid?" asked Hermione tentatively. "All those arrows from the Centaurs – "

Hagrid waved a dismissive hand.

"It don' matter teh him. Like little pins, they were, 's far as he was concerned. No, he's doin' much better now. Learned to talk a bit now, he has. Still hopin' to find him a mate. Been asking about you Hermione, he has." Hagrid smiled. "Wonders when you're goin' to see 'im."

"Oh, really?" asked Hermione, trying to conceal the unease in her voice.

"Hagrid," said Harry, looking to change the subject. "Do you know who the new headmaster is?"

"I do, o' course," replied Hagrid, "but can' tell yeh, I'm afraid."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid," said Ron. "You can tell anything to us."

"An' a lot o' trouble that's put yeh all in, I can tell yeh. No, no, not this time. Yeh'll find out tonight at the feast. Yeh got ter trust Dumbledore; he knows what he's doin.'"

They talked a little while longer and then Hagrid looked at his watch.

"Blimey! Is that the time? Yeh lot better be goin' on, yeh'll be late for yeh next class! What is it?"

"History of Magic," groaned Ron.

Harry let out a groan in kind. At least he might be able to get some sleep.

"Oh, good," replied Hermione, hastily gathering her things. "I've been meaning to ask him a question about the new Goblin Rebellions book I bought over the summer. I'm sure there's a mistake on page 433."

"Yeh migh' find today's class a little more interesting than yeh think," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands.

"Don't tell me you want me to take Beethoven along," said Ron.

"Yeh'll find out," was all that Hagrid said and then ushered them out of the door and back along the grounds to class.

Hermione led the way back up through the main entrance and the now familiar staircase to the History of Magic classroom. Ron and Harry had to struggle to keep pace.

"Hold on, Hermione," said Ron, stifling a yawn.

"Honestly, Hermione," said Harry, yawning himself. "I don't know where you get your energy from."

"It's a new day of classes!" replied Hermione, as if this should make it obvious. "You must at least be a little excited to be taking new lessons after a whole summer of holidays."

"No," replied Ron flatly, yawning again.

"Why are you two so tired, anyway?" asked Hermione.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. Then he muttered: "I couldn't get much sleep last night."

Harry couldn't help but notice Ron and Hermione exchanging slightly nervous glances.

"I couldn't sleep a wink last night either," said Ron, trying to change the subject, but instantly regretting it.

"And why was that?" asked Hermione, a slight hint of disapproval in her voice.

Harry watched Ron as he turned back to look at Hermione and for an instant he could have sworn there was an expression of menace on his face. Then he looked back down to the ground and said:

"I – I just couldn't get to sleep. Just thinking about things. It's nothing. I'll tell you later," he said to Harry although it was Hermione who had asked the question.

Suddenly, Harry felt like it was his turn to try and change the direction of the conversation.

"I thought we didn't have to take History of Magic this year."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all received the news over the summer that they had passed their O. in the required subjects necessary for their interests. Neither Ron nor Harry had been able to believe that they had managed to secure the necessary "Outstanding" in Potions and both were certain that Snape would find it even less believable than they did. But when McGonagall had told Harry the required N.E.W.T. subjects he needed to advance as an auror-in-training, he was sure that they hadn't included History of Magic, not to mention that both he and Ron had failed their History of Magic O. abysmally despite Hermione's help.

"Well," said Ron hesitatingly. "There was a bit of flap about that over the summer. I didn't want to tell you, mate, thought you had enough your mind as it was."

"It seems that a senior Ministry official thought that Bartholomew the Bearded was the name of a number by The Weird Sisters," said Hermione, slightly contemptuously.

"Funny, I thought that, too," remarked Ron.

Hermione sighed despairingly.

"At any rate," said Ron. "After all the row died down, we all got landed with Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine. All future Ministry employees, regardless of position, have to take at least one year of N.E.W.T. history."

"Fortunately for the pair of you, Binns doesn't set a very high requirement for his N.E.W.T. class so even those with scores as low as yours will be able to get in."

Harry and Ron exchanged an old-fashioned glance.

"It was that Skeeter woman who came out with the article," said Ron. "Couldn't you have exercised some influence on her, Hermione?"

Hermione held her nose up in the air ever so slightly.

"I didn't want to. I think it's quite right what she wrote this time. It's ignorance of history that leads the powerful to control the weak. Take the house elves for instance – "

Ron groaned.

"Harry," said Hermione, frowning suddenly. "Did you say Professor Dumbledore told you you'd be having extra Defense lessons?"

"Yeah," said Harry, a little uncertainly. "That's what it sounded like he said, anyway."

"I wonder why he didn't want you to continue with your Occlumency lessons?"

"That's easy," replied Ron. "He knew they didn't work, didn't he? I mean ol' Snape wouldn't have it, would he?"

"Still, there must still be a danger, I would have thought. I mean you still haven't really learned how to block out You-Know-Who's thoughts, have you? What if he tried to possess you again?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure Dumbledore must know what he's doing. I'm just glad I don't have to put up with all that this year, that's all."

Hermione still didn't look particularly satisfied but Ron turned to Harry and said:

"Anyway, mate, with your extra Defense lessons and all, I expect DA classes will be even better this year. You can pass on what you've learned and all."

"I don't think so," said Harry bluntly. "I don't think there'll be a DA this year. After all, we only formed it because of Umbridge and now she's gone."

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry in surprise.

"But, Harry," said Hermione. "The Death Eaters are bound to be more active now. I'm sure everyone will still want all the help they can get!"

"Look," said Harry shortly. He stopped walking and turned around to look at Ron and Hermione. He could feel anger start to well up inside of him again but he took a deep breath and forced it down. He did not want a repeat of the events of the previous night.

"Look," he said again, a little more calmly. "We've got a decent Defense teacher this year, someone Dumbledore appointed himself, a retired auror. I'd rather the DA class concentrate on their lessons with him than learning from an N.E.W.T. student. What do I know anyway?" he mumbled and started to walk forward again slowly.

Ron and Hermione started to walk with him and did not say anything more though Harry was sure they had other things still on their minds. He was still thinking about their broken conversation and did not notice when a tall blond blur cannoned into him and knocked him down to the ground.

Draco Malfoy stood over Harry, flanked by his twin bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle, who laughed at Harry's predicament.

"Careful, Potter," said Malfoy. "I heard you found your way back onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wouldn't do to lose those dodging instincts."

Hermione raised her thick History of Magic book in her hand like a weapon. "You did that deliberately."

Malfoy smiled. "Just trying to help Potter get into shape."

Ron flung his books to the floor and walked over to Malfoy, sticking his chest out. "I thought I warned you, Malfoy."

"I thought I warned you, Weasley," said Malfoy, as Harry got to his feet, his eyes stinging with malice. "I'll have to report your insubordination. I'm a prefect, don't forget." He pointed to his breast and flashed a shiny badge in Ron's face.

Ron laughed. "Report my insubordination? To whom? You can't report me."

Hermione walked over and shook her head incredulously. "We're prefects, too, or did you forget?"

"But for how much longer?" said Malfoy, flashing Hermione a satisfied smile. "I think you should be careful, Granger. Things are going to change around here very soon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron.

But Malfoy just laughed and walked away down the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Ron and Harry moved to follow him and Hermione held them back. "Ignore him. Ignore him," she said. "He'll get what he deserves one day soon. Come on, we're going to be late."

Hermione led Harry and Ron to the History of Magic classroom. The class had indeed already started but Professor Binns did not seem to notice their lateness. Their only ghost teacher was droning on about the twelfth century troll wars. Ron kept dropping to sleep and snoring next to Harry who kept elbowing him in the ribs to wake up. Even Hermione found it difficult to feign attention for very long and she soon found her eyelids drooping heavily. Professor Binns had a way of sucking all of the energy out of even the most well-rested person. Harry wished that Binns could be around to tell him bedtime stories when he needed to sleep at night.

"My," said Professor Binns suddenly, his tone of voice not wavering from his usual monotone. "Is that the time?"

This caused mild interest among the students. Harry saw Neville checking his watch to see whether it was truly the end of class only to find that it had gone missing.

"We still have about ten minutes left," declared Professor Binns, as if in answer. "And it's time for me to turn to today's special announcement."

And then to everyone's surprise, Professor Binns, for the first time in anyone's memory, got up from his desk behind the classroom and sat down casually on a non-existent chair just in front of the first row of desks.

And then his face broke into a prunish smile. This most remarkable set of circumstances had gotten everyone's attention. Even Ron sat up, now wide-awake.

"You're all in for a special treat this year," Binns said. "Who can tell me who Henrietta Handsdowne was?"

Professor Binns never fielded questions from the class. The last time anyone had spoken was when Hermione had asked a question about the Chamber of Secrets three years ago. It was Hermione who raised her hand again this time.

"Yes, miss, er," Binns went back to his desk to fumble through a parchment with a list of student names. "Miss, er, McGonagall. No, that's an old list. Let me see – " Binns went behind his desk to look through some more yellowing papers.

"Granger, sir," replied Hermione. "Hermione Granger."

"Yes," said Binns, smiling again. "Miss Granger, of course. Go on."

"Henrietta Handsdowne was the witch who sided with Guy Fawkes and his fellow conspirators during the gunpowder plot to blow up the British Parliament, in protest of the king's anti-Catholic and anti-wizard policies. Her name is usually left out of official Muggle histories of the event. They were also rumored to be romantically involved. Fawkes eventually abandoned her for another woman and then she refused to take her part in the uprising. The event was considered significant because, had the conspirators succeeded, it would have been the first time that wizard-kind had used violence against the Muggle state which had so often persecuted it."

"Very good, Miss Granger, very good," said Binns and Hermione beamed. "Ten points to Hufflepuff." Binns then looked up wistfully at the ceiling, not noticing that Hermione's smile had abruptly disappeared. "Of course, it was I who had to console her when Fawkes was eventually captured."

Hermione could swear she saw a little color rise in Binns' cheeks – if such a thing were possible - as he seemed to lose himself in an ancient memory. The students looked around to each other in astonishment. Just how long ago was it that Binns had lived?

Professor Binns suddenly snapped back to attention. "Well, now, yes," he said. "I shan't keep any of you in suspense much longer. This year, on Guy Fawkes night, Henrietta Handsdowne herself – well her ghost, of course – will be coming here to Hogwarts!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shrugged and exchanged glances.

"Is that what Hagrid thought we should be so keyed up about?" whispered Ron.

"And," added Binns. "She and I, along with the other Hogwarts ghosts, will be hosting a fireworks display followed by..." Binns paused for dramatic effect, "a Guy Fawkes ball!"

This time there were genuine murmurs of interest in the class. Harry could hear Parvati and Lavender tittering behind him.

"Now, of course, all you lads will have to invite a young lady. Don't be shy." He unexpectedly walked over to Ron and tried to nudge him playfully on the shoulder but his fist went right through. "Of course, I'm afraid we won't have any of those modern dances you young people go in for. What is it called, the lindy hop?"

Harry looked at Ron baffled, but Ron just shrugged, none the wiser himself.

"We will be playing the period music of the time," Binns continued. "Henrietta herself, who was quite a singer in the day, will accompany The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra, who performed the lament at her funeral." He sighed. "I just hope all of you realize what a rare thing is for them to consent to play for those outside the non-corporeal community. Well," he looked at his watch. "Now I'm afraid it is really time to go. Don't forget I expect a report on the Troll Wars Treaty by Wednesday! And, gentlemen," he added. "Don't leave it too late to ask those ladies; two months can go by much sooner than you think!" Binns disappeared through the blackboard.

"The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra?" said Ron as he walked out of the classroom with Harry and Hermione and in the direction of the Great Hall for lunch.

"Well, you never know," said Hermione. "It's certainly different." She frowned. "I suppose I'd better try to talk to him tomorrow about getting Gryffindor's points back away from Hufflepuff."

"I shouldn't worry, Hermione," said Harry. "Since he thinks McGonagall is still a student, it might be a little hard for him to make a report."

The trio entered the Great Hall led by Ron, who was eager to eat, having slept through breakfast. Harry couldn't help notice a slight frown form on Hermione's face as generous helpings of food found their way magically onto their plates.

"Slave labor, slave labor," Harry could swear she heard her muttering under her breath. Harry suddenly remembered his conversation with Winky and wondered whether he should bring it up, then decided against it.

"So," said Hermione, reluctantly nibbling at a roast potato. "Who's everyone inviting to the ball then?"

"Don't know yet," replied Ron, his mouth full of chicken and beans.

"Didn't you hear Binns?" retorted Hermione. "There's only two months to go and you did leave it a bit to the last minute last time."

"We've only just found out," complained Ron. "Go on, then, tell me who you're inviting."

"I'm not going, at least, not to dance that is," replied Hermione matter-of-factly.

Ron and Harry looked up in surprise.

"I thought you said it would be interesting," said Harry.

"I did and it will." A shrewd smile came over Hermione's face. She moved her half-eaten plate to one side and took out a small box with the letters S.P.E.W. written in black quill on the outside.

"Haven't you given that up yet?" asked Ron.

"No," replied Hermione defiantly. Her eyes narrowed. "We've had a few setbacks in the past, I admit."

"Chief among them being the house elves' reluctance to be liberated," quipped Ron.

Hermione glared at him. "But this year we're going to get militant. This Guy Fawkes Ball has given me an excellent idea."

Ron and Harry stared at each other again.

"Hermione," said Harry. "You're not going to crash this party, are you?"

Hermione didn't quite look Harry directly in the eye as she replied. "Crash is such a strong word. We're going to make everyone aware. They'll have to realize that the party, this food, everything they enjoy at Hogwarts is owed to the tireless, thankless labor of the house elves. I'm sorry to have to tell you both this." She looked up at Harry and Ron. "But I'm afraid the pair of you haven't made the best treasurer and secretary. Fortunately, I've managed to recruit some new assistants this year."

As if on cue, Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey walked up just behind Hermione's chair.

"Oh, good," said Hermione, smiling. She took two sheets of parchment from out of the holder and handed them to Neville and Colin. "Please make sure that these are magico-graphed into forty copies to be distributed to the elves. And I've had another new idea," she added, a little bossily, Harry thought. "Would six o'clock tonight be convenient for us to convene another meeting?"

Neville and Colin just nodded.

"Good," replied Hermione. "I shan't keep you then."

Neville and Colin nodded again and walked off to their seats.

"I see," remarked Ron. "Students without dates."

This time even Harry thought that Ron had gone a little too far. He also wasn't sure quite why Ron was interested in goading Hermione quite so much. Colin had actually grown quite tall and with his shock of curly blond hair was beginning to attract a lot of attention although admittedly he seemed oblivious to it. Even Neville had grown a little thinner around the face this year although Harry wasn't sure he was any less clumsy or nervous.

Hermione angrily shut the box and stared at Ron. "Well, then. In that case, it seems you'll be joining us after all. Now that Fleur Delacour has left the campus, it doesn't seem you'll have much choice."

Ron moved his mouth up and down but no sound came out. Finally, his face flushed red and he turned to Harry and said:

"Go on, then, Harry, who are you going to ask?"

Harry finished chewing his carrots and peas, and then answered. "No one," he said, matter-of-factly.

If this had been a ploy to distract Hermione's attention, then Ron had certainly succeeded. Both of them forgot about their argument and exchanged uneasy glances.

It was Ron who replied first. "Really, mate, I know it's not the easiest thing in the world to ask a girl to the dance, but, you know, it'll be fun and I – I mean, well, I always thought Cho wasn't the best choice for you but I'm sure there's lots of other girls who will go with you, Harry." Ron cupped his hand to his face as soon as he had finished. That had definitely not come out the way he had planned.

"I don't want to," replied Harry, more in resignation than anger. "I don't about whether some stupid girl fancies me anymore. I'm past that sort of thing. None of it matters now that Sirius is gone."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other again. They knew better than to ask what the Guy Fawkes ball had to do with Sirius. But Hermione finally said: "Harry, maybe this ball is just what you need to take your mind off things."

"What makes you think I want to take my mind off things?" asked Harry, a dangerously dark look in his eyes.

"Well – " Ron started.

Whatever response he had managed to think up was lost in a sudden outburst that emerged from somewhere to their left.

"You're going to miss the ball because of some stupid football game?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione along with most of the Gryffindor table turned their heads to see Ginny, her face flushed red, waving a fork menacingly at Dean Thomas.

"It's the West Ham opener!" Dean was protesting. "My Dad got tickets ages ago! It's not my fault it's on the same night!"

"And you wouldn't even think of canceling – or changing?" replied Ginny lividly. "They play a bloody football game every day – "

"Every week," corrected Dean.

"Every day! Every week! Who cares? We haven't had a ball here in two years!"

"I was going to invite you as well, you know!" said Dean, his voice rising to the occasion. "It was going to be a surprise!"

Hermione's face creased anxiously as Ron tried to edge closer to Ginny and Dean's side of the table and began looking at Dean with growing menace.

"I don't want to go some stupid football game!" retorted Ginny. "I've had it up to here with football!" She waved her fork dangerously in the air, causing Seamus, who was sitting to her right, to move quickly backwards into Ginny's roommate Amanda.

"I finally have a boyfriend to go to the ball with and he doesn't even want to ask me!"

Ron started to get up from his chair.

"Ron!" said Hermione. "She can look after herself!"

Ron ignored her.

"It's not that I don't want to ask you!" shouted Dean.

"Well, that's what it sounds like," replied Ginny, starting to sob.

She got up from her chair, half her food left untouched.

"Excuse me," she said more quietly. "I don't think I'm very hungry."

And tears streaming down her face, Ginny quickly ran past Ron and out to the door at the other end of the door.

Ron started to walk toward Dean.

There was a loud crash as Hermione smashed her bowl onto the floor.

This attracted even Harry's attention who, previous to this, had been content to eat his lunch as if nothing was going on around him. For a moment, he thought that Hermione was furious and wondered why but as Ron's head snapped suddenly around to see the source of the noise, Hermione looked back at him with a falsely innocent expression on her face:

"Oh, oh, I'm really sorry," she said. "I must have been distracted." She smiled ingratiatingly at Ron. "Will you ask that house elf over there to come and help me clean it up?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Ron looked back and forth between Dean, who was still struggling to call after a rapidly retreating Ginny, and the house elf who was beginning to clear tables in the opposite direction.

"Please," said Hermione with an uncharacteristically flattering smile.

Looking back and forth quickly between Dean and the house elf in obvious indecision, Ron finally walked over to the elf, shooting a final dirty look at Dean which he completely missed.

Hermione sighed wearily.

"Honestly," she said to Harry. "Boys!"

Harry shrugged.

* * *

Ginny took two angry steps at a time as she marched up to Gryffindor Tower. She knew there was only one thing that was going to take her mind off Dean Thomas and that was Quidditch. Not some stupid Muggle game with balls and feet. A real, wizard game played in the sky. Not that Dean would understand. She only hoped the Slytherin team would be trying to practice at the same time and have a go at her. Then she could really get rid of some frustration.

Ginny had reached the top floor of classrooms and turned the corner to the corridor that led to the staircases up to Gryffindor Tower when she had a second thought. What if Amanda and Catherine were up there waiting to tell her to make it up to Dean? Or even worse, what if Ron was waiting with some kind of lecture prepared? No, she realized, she'd better make herself as scarce as possible.

Since it was still lunch time, Ginny decided to simply duck into the vacant classroom on the left. She was certain no one would still be inside or that anyone who was would be busy studying. She found an empty seat next to a girl reading a newspaper and buried her head in her arms as if doing so could make her invisible.

Ginny had just realized that the girl had been reading her newspaper upside down when a voice to her left said dreamily:

"Hello, Ginny. I expect you've come to borrow my paper again. I can arrange a subscription for you quite easily, you know. Oh dear, Ginny, why ever are you making those horrible breathing noises? You're not ill, are you?"

Ginny clenched her fists under the desk where Luna could not see them.

"No – Luna," she said, trying hard to keep her teeth clenched. "I – just – wanted – to – be – alone – for – a – few – minutes."

"Oh, yes," said Luna chattily. "I know just how you feel. No one comes in here at lunch time at all, you know. I like to sit in here and read my paper."

"Right, Luna, so don't let me bother you. I'll just – "

Ginny started to stand up and was surprised when Luna suddenly took hold of her arm and peered up into her face as if she expected to see someone else hiding behind it.

"Why, Ginny," she said finally. "You've been crying. You ought to tell someone about it, you know. I cried for months after my mother died and it all went down to my chest. I got horribly sick after that."

Ginny stared at Luna for a moment, then found herself sinking slowly back into her chair.

"That's it." Luna looked at Ginny and smiled. "Now, whatever's the matter?"

"I – it's nothing, really," said Ginny, still a little flattened by Luna's nonchalant admission of her own more serious grief. "It's just Dean. His father got tickets for a football game for the same day as the Guy Fawkes ball. I suppose I shouldn't have gotten angry, really." Ginny sighed. "After all, his father got the tickets long before he ever found out about the ball."

"Do you want to go and apologize to him?" Luna's large eyes seemed to pierce into Ginny's.

"No," said Ginny suddenly then let out a small gasp. "I – I mean – I suppose I should – it's just – "

Luna smiled. "You don't really want to, do you? I'm not surprised. I was expecting you to say something like this sooner or later."

Ginny suddenly felt her anger start to return.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Ever since I read about it in yesterday's Quibbler."

"You read about me and Dean?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Rita Skeeter isn't still – "

Luna shook her head and laughed.

"Not you and Dean. The Quibbler published a list of animal mates."

Ginny looked back at Luna blankly.

"Every person has an animal spirit, their soul in a past life? Didn't you know?"

Ginny shrugged and shook her head.

"Oh, dear," said Luna. "Most people go through life not knowing their animal spirit. It's very sad." She sighed. "Fortunately, I seem to be able to see into others' past forms. I have ever since my mother died. That's why I always keep my head in the paper when I'm on a train. It's very disconcerting to look all around you and find a crowd full of animals."

Ginny nodded slowly, regarding Luna very cautiously.

"A – and so what's my animal spirit?"

Ginny expected Luna to hesitate but she said very quickly.

"You're a Spiny-footed Kuku bird, they're very rare."

"Why am I not surprised? Let me guess, they're invisible."

"Only during the daytime," said Luna, matter-of-factly. "The Spiny-footed Kuku bird lives only a remote magical island in the Irish Sea."

"And, so, what's its mate?"

"Oh, that's easy. I would have known that even before I started reading the feature in The Quibbler. The Spiny-footed Kuku bird's mate is the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper. It's very lazy and spends most of its time lying down in the sand disguised as a coconut. It gets up at night and makes a horrible sort of snorting noise while it hunts, then goes back to sleep again. The female Spiny-footed Kuku bird knows that the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper is really its mate and so every spring it strides around proudly hoping the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper will notice but it never does. Then one night, the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper spins a spell and discovers that it was a male Spiny-footed Kuku bird in disguise all along."

"And then what happens?"

Luna looked at Ginny as though she was slightly slow.

"Well, then it gets into the nest with its mate and they lay lots of eggs together."

Ginny found that her face had turned red in spite of herself.

"I don't suppose Dean is a Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper?"

Luna shook her head and laughed.

"Oh, no. There's only one Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper I can think of in the school."

"And who's that?"

"Harry."

Ginny started to cough.

"H- H – Harry? You must be joking."

"I'm afraid not." Luna sighed. "It is a bit of pity, though. I had rather fancied him for myself, I admit. And then there's your brother – he's a giraffe – but we don't seem fated either."

"You don't have to listen to what some stupid newspaper says," Ginny said suddenly. "If you just told Harry, maybe he'd just – "

But Luna was already shaking her head.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't help either of us very much, Ginny," she said seriously. "Don't worry, though. I've found out who my real mate is. I was very surprised."

Luna smiled a little madly and returned her attention to her newspaper.

"Well," said Ginny, clearing her throat. "That was very – interesting, Luna. I – I think I'll go and get ready for class now." She got up from her seat.

Luna, who seemed to have become engrossed in an article about a Ministry plot to transfigure Hogwarts into a giant gingerbread house, did not respond and so Ginny got up and left the room still shaking her head as she did so.

* * *

Hermione had managed to get Harry and Ron to agree to play Wizard Chess for the remainder of the hour to get their minds away from Sirius and Dean respectively. This seemed to be working for Ron but it was obvious that Harry's mind was still elsewhere as he had been beaten badly in all three games. By the time they had finished it was time for the trio to pack their things up and journey down the moving staircases into the bowels of the school faced with the dismal prospect of double N.E.W.T. potions. The only consolation Hermione took from this was that at least Snape had a way of bringing wayward minds back to attention more effectively than Wizard Chess.

Even their trip down to the dungeons was fraught with setbacks. The staircases seemed to be shifting even more now than usual. Then, running down the last staircase, dangerously close to the time class was scheduled to begin, the trio ran into Peeves, who had erected a barricade of chairs and tables from a vacant classroom and refused to move them unless Ron, Hermione, and Harry provided him with a "password" that only Peeves himself seemed to know. Finally, Ron and Harry levitated an opening through the chairs and tables which then fell back into place with a loud crash and the trio moved through, ignoring Peeves' protests.

Running hard to the dungeons, now two minutes late, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sure that Gryffindor would move into the unenviable position of having negative points on the very first day. As they rounded the last corridor to the front of the classroom, they expected to hear Snape's intimidating drawl from inside but all that could be heard was the clatter of their own footsteps. Finally, as they reached the entrance, they could see a small scroll hanging in the air outside the classroom.

Ron snatched the parchment up. He was about to start reading when it flew out of his hands and transfigured into the ghostly likeness of Professor Snape.

Ron let go and gasped, taking a step backwards into Harry and Hermione.

"All students are hereby notified that there will be no Potions lessons this week," the ghostly Snape muttered. "Students will be informed when class is to be held again. In order to make up for time lost, you are expected to read the entire first volume of Potente Poisons and their Antidotes by Gwendola Grim. And I should be careful with any pumpkin juice at dinner time." Snape's mouth curled up in a sneer. "You never know when I might decide to see whether you have been keeping up."

Ron gulped.

"By the way," Snape went on. "Whichever students have just accessed this message arrived five minutes late for class. Five points will be deducted for each of you from your respective houses."

"How's he going to know who we are?"

No sooner had the question left Ron's lips than the image of Snape transfigured itself again into a camera which snapped an unflattering photograph of the trio. Hermione turned around, her heart sinking as she saw the clock on the wall behind them which clearly showed that it was five minutes past two.

"Well," said Ron, as the camera transfigured itself back into a floating parchment, "It could be worse then, couldn't it?" He grinned. "A whole week with no Snape. Maybe he's been sent on assignment by Dumbledore. Maybe he's ill."

Ron's smile faded as he noticed the uneasy expressions on Harry and Hermione's faces.

"I don't know, Ron," said Harry, a nasty suspicion forming in his mind. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't tell me your scar's hurting?"

"No," said Harry queasily, "but my stomach is."

A cool autumn breeze blew over the entrance to a small cave along the other side of the ridge from the southern edge of what those in the wizarding community would call the Forbidden Forest. For Jacob McClelland, they were just the woods past the farm that his family had owned for centuries. He remembered as a young boy sitting down around the kerosene lamps outside the old barn listening with his brothers and sisters as his father told the strange tales of old: about the goblins, wizards, and giants that lived in the forest and ate any children who went too near. He also remembered the vivid nightmares he had dreamed on the summer nights that his window was open and only the haunting sounds of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees in the forest could be heard. Jacob had grown up to tell the same stories to his own sons, and then to his grandchildren, but each generation had grown less interested; skepticism now took root at an earlier and earlier age. It seemed to Jacob that modern children had very little room left for wonder.

Jacob would like to have thought that nothing would change on this land; that his family would still continue to herd sheep over the rock-strewn highlands for generations, but he had known for a long time now that this would not be so. Neither his children nor his children's children had much time for farming. Both his sons had placed into university, one at St. Andrews, the other in Glasgow, much to the pride of their mother (god rest her soul). Jacob had known full well that they wouldn't come back. Both did well, of course: one became a lawyer, the other a university dean. Jacob's grandchildren had enjoyed visiting the country at first, though they often spoke about the funny way granddad talked, but as they got older (and not all that old) Nintendo started to take away their interest in the old stories. Jacob knew that after he died the farm and his sheep would be sold, though, he thought, with a chuckle to himself, whoever thought they could tame this land was welcome to try.

As he dragged his increasingly non-cooperative legs up the side of the mountain, Jacob was pulled away from his reflections momentarily when two or three of his sheep stopped at the mouth of the cave and started bleating persistently.

Jacob whistled. "Come on, you there; come on then," he ordered. "'Int nothin' in that ol' cave."

Two of the sheep lost interest and moved to follow the others up the mountainside but one kept bleating away and even stuck its head a little way inside.

"I said come on." Jacob flicked the long whip he was carrying and the animal grudgingly moved away from the mouth of the cave. The sheep finally followed Jacob further up the mountain and their bleating grew more and more distant.

"Fascinating animals, sheep," murmured an ownerless voice from inside the cave. "Only one of three creatures, along with bats and kangaroos, that can see right through an invisibility cloak."

There was another wizard in the cave listening to Dumbledore but he did not seem inclined to respond.

Dumbledore sighed and opened his mouth again, speaking in an even lower voice this time.

"I have, of course, received your report. You have arranged things at the school as I instructed?"

"I have," replied Snape.

Dumbledore leaned back in the cave thoughtfully for a moment, the hint of a weary smile on his lips. He did not speak for several moments, then said:

"It is, of course, a brilliant plan. Then, as I've said before, he always was brilliant."

Snape nodded slowly.

"Everyone running around after Potter, making sure he isn't passing out every five minutes, but no one, of course, would think to look out for the girl."

Dumbledore nodded in kind.

"You have a plan, I presume?" said Snape.

"I have," said Dumbledore, frowning as if in pain. "It is Andrew's plan, in fact."

Snape started.

"Do you trust Andrew?" he asked. "His plans have been known to be – "

Dumbledore shifted his penetrating eyes to look directly at Snape.

" – dangerous," he finished. "Yes, but Andrew has come to appreciate more than most the consequences of his actions. And I would trust him with my life as I trust everyone in my employ including you, Severus."

Snape stiffened.

"But, no," said Dumbledore, after another moment's pause. "It is not a safe plan; in fact, it is very, very dangerous, and if I thought there was another way I could stop him, I would. But I do not believe there is. There is no point in simply reacting to what he does now, Severus. The Ministry's delay continues to cost us dearly. The Dementors have already gone to him and I've no doubt it won't be long before the goblins, giants, and centaurs are persuaded to avenge their years of mistreatment by rallying to his cause. We have no choice but to trap him now once and for all using the very web through which he would weave to power against him. I fear that soon it will be already too late."

And so Dumbledore told Snape his plan, including both his own role and the part that he hoped Snape himself would play. The normally stoic Potions Master stared wide-eyed during Dumbledore's account but when he responded, his expression was still neutral.

"And you have told this to the other members of the Order?"

Snape wasn't sure if he was imagining things but for a moment he had the sense that Dumbledore was unable to meet his gaze.

"No," he said finally. "I feel it is best that only those directly involved in the plan be informed of its details. There is no need for unnecessary risk."

Snape smiled wryly.

"Lupin?" he asked.

Dumbledore sighed.

"He, too, has a part to play, but I have not told him all of the details."

"Molly and Arthur?" Snape asked quietly.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I can't imagine they'd be very pleased."

The lines on Dumbledore's face seemed to harden slightly as if he could loosen and tighten them of his own accord.

"I doubt very much that they'll speak to me again but there are more serious issues here."

Snape nodded.

"I quite agree. And you won't tell Potter, of course?"

Dumbledore shook his head even more wearily.

"It is not his time, yet."

Snape drew in a breath.

"Still, headmaster, the risk. Can you be sure this is the right choice?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I can be sure, Severus, because all of the alternatives are much, much worse. If you have a different plan, however," he said, in an almost defeated tone. "I would be very glad to hear it. I mean that in all sincer-"

Dumbledore suddenly broke off and frowned.

Snape looked up, his instincts aroused and his eyes sharp and searching like a hawk's.

"What is it?" he asked.

Dumbledore motioned for him to keep silent.

And then the sound of a voice filled the cave. It was the sheep farmer talking from somewhere up on the mountain behind them. And he was getting louder.

"What in the name of Jesus – Oi!" Jacob cried. "You lot! What d'ya lads think yeh doin'? This is private property. No trespassin'."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Answer me then?" came Jacob's voice, louder and more insistent. "What the hell yeh playin' at, dressed like that? 'S a bit early for Halloween now."

Silence again.

"What's that yeh got there? If yeh threatenin' me, I warn yeh – "

The last of Jacob's words seemed to die in his throat. There was a whooshing sound and then the sheep farmer let out a loud tormented scream ending in an ominous gurgle.

Jacob McClelland's childhood nightmares had finally caught up to him.

Dumbledore looked to Snape and saw that he was thinking the same thing. The Death Eaters had arrived.

* * *

Deep in a dark forest in a part of the world where it was already night, all was very quiet. The beautiful brilliant white unicorns who normally roamed the forest in large families had fled in fear to the outer reaches of the woods, risking detection by wizards and even Muggles.

For something deep within the forest was killing unicorns. Something dark, unseen, and unthinkable.

And at that very moment, the silence was deceptive. A unicorn lay on the ground, its powdery skin reflecting eerily in the moonlight. The unicorn no longer had the strength to cry out. It silently lifted its rear leg in a final protest and then felt its soul ebb away into darkness.

Panting and rasping for breath, Lord Voldemort bent over the slain unicorn and hungrily sunk his teeth into the animal's flesh, taking in huge gulps of its blood like a man about to die of thirst. Large globs of the silvery liquid dripped down the front of Voldemort's robes as he chewed further into the unicorn's neck, trying to break into its carotid artery.

No one, not his closest supporters, or even his snake Nagini, knew where the Voldemort was at this moment. And none would have recognized their master. Gone was the self-assured Dark Lord who controlled both his friends and foes in a delicate cocktail of loyalty and fear and in its place was a half-human monster who could not even control his own appetite. Voldemort no longer needed the animal's blood to survive as he had once done. He was strong, even stronger than ever. Moreover, he knew that with every drop of pure unicorn blood he ingested, he subjected himself to a cursed life.

But the truth was that Voldemort had grown used to it. There was a raw, animal power that coursed through his veins from brutally killing a unicorn and feeling its life's strength flow into him, a power that Voldemort could never completely gain from his subtle manipulations of the Death Eaters.

Finally, when he was sure that he had drunk every last ounce of the unicorn's life force, Voldemort sank back against the thick trunk of a dead tree, feeling the energy surge through his body like the jolt of an electric shock. Voldemort's pounding heart quieted slowly. Finally, when he had caught his breath again, Voldemort felt his feeling of power melt away, replaced by a loathing self-disgust that he could sink to such depths, that he could endanger the very power and immortality for which he had strived his whole life for a fleeting thrill.

But as Voldemort's sense of reason and calculation slowly returned, he realized that loathing his own frailties could serve no purpose. Manipulating himself as masterfully as he had manipulated others, Voldemort channeled all of his anger and disgust onto the person who had created his dependency in the first place, the person who had made it necessary for him to forage for unicorn blood when he was merely a parasite on the body of another, the person who had reduced him from the most powerful sorcerer wizard-kind had ever known to a creature on the edge of existence: Harry Potter.

Voldemort reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out the diary he had once enchanted all those years ago. Tom Riddle had been shrewd beyond his sixteen years but his knowledge of magic had still been limited to that of a student. He had not known when he had enchanted the diary the limitations of the magic he had used. When, in later years, Riddle had discovered the diary's danger, he had simply recovered the book and hid it amongst his old school belongings, never to be used again, let alone found by anyone else.

But Voldemort had not counted on his own demise at the hands of a mere toddler. He had not imagined that his Death Eaters would go rifling through his personal belongings and that Lucius Malfoy would take control of the diary, ignorant to both its power and its danger, and use it for his own nefarious purposes. When Voldemort had regained strength and Malfoy had presented him with the destroyed diary, it had taken all of the Dark Lord's self-control not to annihilate him where he had stood.

As far as Malfoy had been concerned, the diary had been destroyed: the essence of what had once been the preserved memory of Tom Riddle had seeped out harmlessly onto the floor of the now-sealed Chamber of Secrets thanks, once again, to the meddlesome Harry Potter. But it was not for nothing that Voldemort had become the most powerful wizard ever. The magic of the diary might be gone but its torn pages still contained the secrets it once hid. For one as powerful as Voldemort, the past was not a barrier but merely a veil that could be lifted again with the right magic.

Few of even Voldemort's closest followers knew that the Dark Lord could hold a single pebble in his hand and learn not only whatever creature had walked over it for hundreds of years but also smell the air and taste the hopes and fears of those creatures as though they were his own. Every object in the universe, however dead, left a kind of magical imprint that could still be read if one was powerful enough to learn how. And Voldemort had made it his business to do so. For he had learned long before he had given up his Muggle father's name that whomever had knowledge also had power in equal sum.

It was a dangerous magic to be sure, and one that Voldemort did not practice lightly, but if there was one thing Voldemort could not tolerate it was ignorance and he knew full well that Malfoy had limited his account of the diary's adventures to what his own vanity could withstand.

And so Voldemort had taken the diary in his hands, run his fingers over its dusty broken pages, and opened up its secrets. He had learned, as his sixteen-year-old self had learned before him, of Ginny Weasley, the silly eleven-year-old girl who loved Harry Potter for all of the same reasons that Voldemort hated him. He had learned of Malfoy's ill-conceived plan to place the blame for the re-opening of the Chamber and its consequences on the girl's father, satisfying, in the process, his petty workplace grudge. And Voldemort had learned a great deal about Harry himself, the boy who spoke Parseltongue, whose ingenuity, nerve, and disregard for rules had led him to defeat Tom Riddle and violently destroy the diary's magic. It was a pity that Harry had chosen to work against Lord Voldemort for he would have made such a powerful ally.

Voldemort had known of the danger of the diary's magic and had hoped he could control it, but it was not until after he had devoured its secrets with the same appetite that he had consumed the unicorn's blood that Voldemort realized he had succumbed to the trap his younger self had unwittingly set. He was bonded to Ginny Weasley, not only her past but also her present self with all the dangers that such a crude link brought with it. If he was cautious enough, however, he could use the strength of the link without succumbing to any of its weaknesses.

Voldemort placed his hand over the diary, closed his eyes, and concentrated on Ginny. He could feel her memory flow from the diary into his mind. Then he tried to reach out further through the link to Ginny's present self, as he had every night in her dreams that summer.

But just as he could begin to make out the shadows of her conscious thought, Voldemort found himself blocked. He tried with all of the power at his disposal to go around the block, then through it, but finally he knew it was futile. He opened his eyes once again and allowed himself a smile. Of course, it would not do to underestimate Dumbledore too much. After his attempts to keep Harry safe in his home had been thwarted, Dumbledore had obviously found some way to reinforce the magic that kept Hogwarts safe from outside intrusion even when he himself was not present in the castle. It was no matter: Voldemort knew he could be very patient.

Voldemort's smile remained as he allowed himself the rare luxury to reflect on his own student days. He remembered as if from a distant existence the handsome prefect that had told only a few close friends of his true ambitions. His face had not always inspired fear and disgust. He was once handsome like Harry and he had attracted the attention of many girls just as weak minded as the pathetic Ginny. He had not been interested in any of them, of course; his thirsts could not be satisfied by any childish romance. He imagined Harry felt the same but it did not matter. He knew that Ginny would try to cling to Harry just as those tittering, giggling Slytherin girls had tried to cling to him so many years ago. She would know wherever Harry was. And once the link was opened, Voldemort would take all of the foolish hopes and dreams that Ginny and her family believed in so fervently and use them against her: she would lead Voldemort right to Harry without ever realizing what she had done.

And then Voldemort would kill him.


	6. A New Headmaster

Chapter 6

A New Headmaster

A flocked of frightened sheep made their way down the craggy slope of what until only a few moments before had been Jacob McClelland's farm. The sound of slow and measured footsteps – human footsteps – silently rustled the grass just behind them.

Dumbledore clenched his wand tightly as they heard the footsteps strike against the roof of the cave. Any moment now and the owners of the footsteps would walk down to the front of the cave where he and Snape were sitting. With any luck, they would pass it by, but Dumbledore knew they could not depend on this. He held his breath in silence.

He watched as the backs of two black cloaked Death Eaters moved into their field of vision directly in front of the cave, the folds of their robes strangely sharp in the bright clear sun. They had yet to turn around and notice the cave opening - and then there was the invisibility tent - but all they had to do was to try and walk in and look around and the game would be up.

Dumbledore watched as the Death Eaters continued to walk, hoping that they would move on but then they stopped walking and now stood in a spot about ten yards in front of the cave, looking over the nearby hills for any sign of movement. Dumbledore was sure that any minute now one or both of the Death Eaters was going to turn around and notice the cave. Dumbledore looked to his right and saw that Snape had edged forward slightly with his wand held out in front of him.

Suddenly, the Death Eaters turned around. In a breathless moment, Dumbledore could hear them talking but could not make out the words. His eyes widened in horror as they started to move forward toward the opening of the cave. Snape moved his wand forward to strike but in the time it took to blink an eye there was a sudden rush of movement to his left. With the agility of a gazelle, Dumbledore leapt out of the cave opening. Before his feet had even touched the rocky ground outside the cave, Dumbledore had transfigured himself into an enormous mountain troll and clutched a large wooden club in his hand where there had been a wand moments before.

There was a loud thud as the troll's feet hit the ground. The two Death Eaters stepped back in surprise. The troll let out a bellowing roar. He swung his club viciously at the Death Eaters causing them to back away. Finally, as the now terrified Death Eaters continued to simply back away from the troll slowly, he advanced toward them with his club raised, crushing large boulders under its feet, and made to run after them. The Death Eaters then turned on their heels and tore down the hill, the troll in close pursuit. After reaching an area several hundred yards past the mouth of the cave opening, one of the Death Eaters seemed to remember that he could disapparate and did so, followed closely by his terrified companion.

Dumbledore or whatever it was he had become lumbered his way back to the cave entrance in three large strides. It looked around from side to side with a curious expression on its face and then undramatically transfigured back into Dumbledore and slipped back inside the invisibility tent.

Snape watched in incredulity as Dumbledore idly picked out an apple from his bag of food supplies and began munching away. Finally, he looked at Dumbledore and said:

"I don't suppose I should ask whether you are a registered animagus?"

"I wouldn't, no."

"Forgive me," said Dumbledore after a moment's pause. "I thought it was easier than cursing them. They might have been missed."

Snape nodded, still not yet quite able to remove the expression of surprise from his face.

"We were discovered, you realize," he finally said, after he had regained his composure.

Dumbledore nodded. "Only members of the Order should have known of this location."

"Could we have been followed?" asked Snape.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I apparated directly here. There was nothing to follow."

Snape nodded also.

"As did I. Is it possible that your whereabouts could have been discovered by someone at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore frowned and shook his head.

"I told no one where I was going, not even Remus and Minerva."

"It seems we may have a traitor in our midst."

"I very much fear it. In that case, we have to proceed especially cautiously in our future meetings just as we did in the first war."

Snape and Dumbledore shared yet another knowing nod.

There was another pause and then Dumbledore looked Snape in the eye and said:

"I do not pretend this will be easy, Severus. If you – "

Snape shook his head.

"What I do, I do not for the Order, but for myself."

If Dumbledore was surprised at this reaction he did not show it. He merely sat up in the cave and said:

"Very well, Severus. We will see each other soon, then. Good luck."

Snape nodded. "Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded in reply.

Two loud cracks suddenly filled the hillside and the cave was empty once more.

* * *

Harry was used to arriving for the beginning of the year feast starving from the long ride to school on the Hogwarts Express. But today he hardly felt like eating a thing, partially because he was still a little full from lunch, but mostly because he had nasty suspicion he already knew who the new headmaster would be. Ron, Hermione, and he sat unusually quietly as the Great Hall around them buzzed with curious conversation from the wild rumors going around the school that Professor Dumbledore was not returning this year.

Harry looked up at the staff table. All of the usual teachers were present along with a balding man with a crooked nose and a lean face whom Harry did not recognize. He guessed it must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Snape was also present in his usual position and Harry thought he looked even gaunter than usual, if that were possible. No one sat in the Headmaster's chair which added fuel to the burning flames of rumor spreading in every direction of the hall.

Finally, Professor McGonagall stood up and tapped her spoon gently on the side of a goblet.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" The stern look on McGonagall's face succeeded in bringing about silence more than the clinking of her glass.

"Normally we would begin with the sorting ceremony. But today I feel it is best to start with an important announcement."

The hall was once again filled with the sound of hushed whispers.

"Please be silent," said McGonagall and the whispering gradually died down. McGonagall paused for a moment longer as if unsure exactly where to begin.

"I'm not sure what your parents have told you but these are very dangerous times now in the wizarding world. Let me make clear, however, that every student should feel safe so long as he or she remains inside the school. As you know, our headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, has for many years fought against dark wizards of all kinds. He is famous for his defeat of Grindewald and, as many of you may know, he has played a pivotal role in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named."

McGonagall cleared her throat somewhat uncomfortably before continuing again.

"It is for me to announce," she said, somewhat haltingly, "that Professor Dumbledore has chosen to take a year of sabbatical in order to devote his full efforts to the defeat of the Dark Lord and to ensure the safety of this school and its students."

McGonagall paused as the hall broke once again into chatter. This time, she waited for the murmurs to die down by themselves before continuing.

"Needless to say, it is impossible to replace a wizard of Professor Dumbledore's legend. Fortunately, this year, one of our very own staff has volunteered to take his place. I am very honored to announce our new acting headmaster, Professor Severus Snape."

A loud cheer arose from the Slytherin table while the other students found it a great effort to provide even polite applause.

Ron turned around to look at Harry and Hermione, an expression of mute horror transfixed to his face.

"It – it – can't be," he muttered, his complexion reverting to a waxy white.

Harry looked over to Hermione and saw that she was nodding at Ron, but, like he himself, was not terribly surprised. He then looked over to the Slytherin table and was equally unsurprised to see Malfoy staring straight at him, a gleam of delight in his eyes in equal proportion to the look of horror and fear in Ron's. Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle sat giggling stupidly. It was clear they had learned ahead of time, along with other Slytherins, and had been waiting for this moment all day. Harry stared back, his lips pursed in a thin line. He was determined not to give them any satisfaction.

All around the Gryffindor table, students stared at each other with expressions not unlike Ron's. They looked searchingly in their friends' eyes like fellow prisoners preparing to eat their last meal before an execution. Harry's stomach began to churn like an ice-cream maker as he saw out of the corner of his eye Snape walk over, expressionless, and sit on the headmaster's chair – Dumbledore's chair.

Snape ended the Slytherin cheering with a loud clap of his hands.

His eyes darted around the room, determined to spot an idle or inattentive student, but the students were too frightened to look anywhere else. It seemed that Snape could accomplish with the movement of his eyes what other teachers sometimes failed to achieve with hoarse voices.

"The sorting ceremony may now commence," was all Snape finally said and sat down again.

The first year students, whose sorting had been delayed the night before by Harry's presumed death, were already standing in front of the hall preparing to make their way individually to receive the Sorting Hat. McGonagall repeated her usual list of procedures. The Sorting Hat endeavored to start another song about the four houses, but it was interrupted at the beginning of only its second verse when Snape knocked his goblet loudly on the table and announced that there had been far too many delays and the sorting was to commence immediately.

The Hat for its own part looked scandalized, if such a thing was possible. It tried to contort the eyes, nose, and mouth formed by the folds of its head into the most menacing expression possible but all this was lost on Snape who continued to sit behind it. For a moment, Harry was certain it would refuse to complete the actual sorting but it soon seemed that it would grudgingly comply.

The sorting ceremony itself had been always been somewhat of an intimidating rite of passage for all students and Harry, Ron, and Hermione could still remember their own sorting vividly. But on this evening, it seemed to take on a new dimension of fear. Harry watched as each new student came forward to receive the Sorting Hat. Though one or two looked up at McGonagall, the majority turned their attention toward Snape. Sorely missed was the twinkling eye of Dumbledore in the headmaster's chair. Instead, Snape seemed to scrutinize each new student with a searching narrow-eyed look and the hat's own mutinous expression did not help matters much. It almost seemed to Harry that Snape could discern in which house the hat would place a student even before the sorting took place. He seemed to gaze almost benignly on certain students as they advanced to the stool and those students would inevitably be placed into Slytherin; other students he would regard with a loathing evil-eyed stare and those students would find themselves in other houses.

Finally, one diminutive girl with large brown eyes and jet black hair swept back into a ponytail walked slowly forward after McGonagall had called her name ("Wycliffe, Arabella"). Snape bore down on her with a particularly poisonous stare and all Arabella could do, it seemed, was to gaze nervously into his eyes like a small bird mesmerized by a cobra preparing to strike. Arabella was visibly shaking; her knees started knocking together and three steps away from the stool with the sorting hat she started to lose her balance and had to be helped up by two first-year boys.

There was a look of pity for Arabella on many of the faces at the teachers' table though Snape's own expression remained unchanged. Finally, Arabella made it to the stool and sat trembling as the Sorting Hat spent some while hemming and hawing before crying out "Gryffindor!"

Suppressing some surprise that this nervous, mousey girl would end up in a house whose students were noted for bravery, the Gryffindor table broke into an especially enthusiastic round of applause. Some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs even joined in, appreciating Arabella's difficulty in being sorted right under Snape's crooked nose stare.

Most of the newly-sorted first years were sitting in a group near the head of the table but there happened to be a vacant seat to Hermione's left. Ignoring a glare from Snape, she stood up and beckoned Arabella over. Arabella pointed to herself in surprise and then nervously walked over and sat down.

Hermione smiled encouragingly. "Hello, Arabella. Welcome to Gryffindor. I'm Hermione."

Arabella just nodded and bit her lip.

"This is Ron."

Ron nodded encouragingly and Arabella tried to smile at him.

"And this is Harry."

Harry smiled. "Hello."

But Arabella stared at him in shock and could not stop herself from pointing at his scar. "Not – not – Harry Potter," she managed to croak.

Hermione's smile faded slightly. Ron immediately broke into a coughing fit. Finally, Neville, who was sitting to Ron's left, broke the impasse by leaning over and saying:

"Don't worry, Arabella. I used to be frightened by Professor Snape, too, until…" Neville broke off and frowned as he struggled to remember what had changed.

Just then, the Gryffindors became aware that Snape had cleared his throat and was looking in their direction with a most severe expression on his face. The sorting had apparently ended and he was preparing to make some sort of start-of-term announcement.

"I have a few brief things to pass on," he remarked curtly. "There will be little tolerance for rule-breaking this year." Harry turned for a moment to look at the school caretaker, Argus Filch, who was standing by the doorway stroking his cat Mrs. Norris, a smile of immense satisfaction slowly breaking across his face.

Harry broke off his wandering glance at a nudge in the elbow from Hermione. He looked back to see Snape staring directly at him.

"In past years," Snape went on. "Certain students have seen fit to regard themselves as being above school rules." He let his words hang for a moment. Harry noticed that many of the other students in the hall were now looking curiously in his direction. He also saw Malfoy's face flush red with satisfaction.

"However," Snape continued. "I would like to assure everyone that this sort of behavior will not be tolerated this year by anyone." A slow sneer crept across Snape's face. "I plan to keep the Hogwarts Express well-oiled and in good working condition for those students whom I will find it necessary to send home."

Arabella started to shake again and Hermione put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Harry could sense Neville fidgeting near him, but he, Ron, and Hermione stared back at Snape in defiance. Whatever they were feeling inside, they had grown past the age where they would allow Snape to think that he had succeeded in intimidating them so easily.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape continued to glare at each other for a moment after Snape had finished his "announcements." Then Snape clapped his hands together unceremoniously and sat down. The feast appeared magically in front of the students and staff and the hall was soon filled with the sound of knives, forks, and, eventually, conversation.

As delicious as the food looked, Harry found he had even less appetite than when he had first come into the hall. Even Ron did not seem to tuck in with his usual enthusiasm. After the feast was over and the prefects had escorted the first-years to their houses, Ron, Harry, and Hermione made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, deep in conversation.

"How can it be him?" Ron demanded. "Shouldn't it be McGonagall? She's deputy headmistress after all!"

"I don't know," replied Hermione. "Maybe she didn't want the job. Or maybe Dumbledore has some other plan."

"No wonder he didn't want to tell me," said Harry broodily.

"Let's try and look on the bright side," said Hermione. "He can't be worse than Umbridge."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," said Ron.

So engrossed were Hermione, Harry, and Ron in their own miserable conversation that they failed to notice that Ginny was hovering near the entranceway to the Great Hall, looking anxiously back out to where all of the other students were leaving. Perhaps she should wait on this; think it over more, she thought. No, she decided, I'm not going to change my mind. It's best to get it over with now. Finally, she spotted the person she was looking for. She took a deep breath and walked up to Dean just as he was leaving with Seamus.

"Hi," she said, unable to keep from sounding nervous.

"Hi." Dean stopped talking to Seamus. There was a momentary look of surprise on Dean's face but then he walked over to her.

"Can we talk?" Ginny asked, her eyes unusually bright.

"Sure," said Dean, shrugging.

"I'll go on up then, mate," said Seamus.

"Cheers," said Dean. He turned back to Ginny.

"Thanks," said Ginny quickly. She started walking briskly down the corridor not quite meeting his eye.

"Rotten about Snape, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Ginny, still not quite looking at her boyfriend. She led the way quickly into an empty classroom.

"What's up?" asked Dean. He sat down at one of the desks.

Ginny sat down as well.

"Look," she said, sighing. "First of all, I'm really, really sorry about what happened at lunch today."

Dean shrugged.

"Just forget it, Ginny, it's – "

"No, it's not OK!" said Ginny, suddenly shouting again. "Stop saying that everything I do is OK."

"Fine, have it your way." Dean held out his hands in a gesture of submission.

"I hate people who act the way I did today, Dean, do you know that? No one deserves to have to deal with that! Goddess, I'm becoming my mother." Ginny folded her arms and rested her chin on the desk in frustration.

"No, you're not, Gin," said Dean. "Look, I should have thought how much the ball would mean to you. Tell you what, I'll send an owl to my Dad tomorrow. Maybe he can get us tickets – "

"No," said Ginny, looking up suddenly. "Dean, don't!"

Dean looked back at Ginny in surprise.

"You mean you'll go?"

Ginny felt a horrible lump start to form in her throat. It was all she could do to stop looking down at the table or the floor. She hated this; goddess, she hated this. But she knew she had to look Dean in the eye. He deserved as much.

"No, Dean," she said finally. "I'm not going because I'm not really interested but I don't want to stop you because I know how much it means to you. And if we go on like this, pretending we like what don't, and don't what we do, neither of us is going to be very happy."

"What are you saying, Ginny?" Dean asked neutrally.

Ginny swallowed hard.

"I'm saying that I just don't think I can do this right now. You and I. I thought I wanted it but I – I guess maybe now I think I don't. I'm really, really sorry."

She looked up at Dean nervously.

Dean looked across at her for a moment, then down at the top of the desk nearest him. Ginny felt her heart sink as she saw him blink rapidly. No, she thought to herself, don't let him start to cry. Please don't let him cry.

Dean cleared his throat and looked back up at Ginny.

"'S alright, Ginny, I understand."

"Really?" Ginny suddenly found herself wishing Dean hadn't taken it so well. "I'm really sorry," she repeated.

Dean shook his head, still not quite looking back at her. He blinked again.

"No worries," he said. "Coming up?"

Ginny shook her head. A tear escaped down her cheek.

"I think I'll stay here for a while."

"Just don't let Filch catch you."

"I won't," replied Ginny mechanically, still watching him.

Dean moved toward the door then suddenly swung back around to look at her.

"You're still in love with him, aren't you?" he said.

"Michael Corner?" replied Ginny incredulously. "Are you crazy?"

"No. Not Michael. Harry. I saw the way you looked at him last night. I was jealous at first but now I figure, if it's meant to be, why should I get in the way? It's only going to hurt if I fight it."

"No, wait!" Ginny protested. "You've got it wrong. It's not about Harry at all. I'm over him now! We're friends."

"Like I said, whatever you say, Ginny. I just hope he appreciates what he's getting. See you around."

Ginny's wide eyes looked out to the place where Dean had walked out of the classroom door long after he had left. Luna Lovegood was one thing, but Dean? Ginny heard herself started to sob. This can't be happening, she tried to tell herself. I won't let it happen. I'm not going back to the way I felt before. I can't.

Ginny started to sob more loudly. She buried her face on the desk again and was certain that it would some while before she would be able to raise it back up again.

* * *

The next morning, Ron and Harry made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They had expected to find Hermione in the common room or on the way down and when they arrived, they were surprised to see her already seated in her customary chair. Piled next to her on the table in haphazard fashion were several piles of parchment and a large stack of books.

"You're up early," said Ron as they sat down beside her.

Hermione looked up at them and Harry could see that her eyes were red and puffy.

"I – I didn't really get to sleep last night," she replied yawning.

"What?" Ron was shocked. "We've only just started the term."

"I – I had an idea," said Hermione defensively. "I got carried away and before I knew what was happening, the sunrise was coming in through the window."

Harry glanced at some of the titles of the books Hermione had spread out next to her: My Year in an Elf Village by Gilderoy Lockhart, House Elves: Servants or Slaves? by Mooshawk Mundblugger, and Capital by Karl Marx.

"Hermione," Harry said gently, although Hermione seemed to jump nervously at the sound. "D – don't you think you might be taking on a bit too much?"

"Well, we'll have a lot more homework soon, won't we? I have to take advantage of the time now."

"How about sleeping for a change?" asked Ron.

"I'm afraid I don't have a long time to chat," was Hermione's brusque reply. She took a spoonful of the Wizard puffs that had been practicing their backstrokes in a pool of milk in her bowl and shoved them into her mouth. She gathered her papers and books into an untidy pile and got up from her chair. "The library will have opened by now. I need to get some more books."

Harry looked at Ron to see what he thought and was surprised to see him looking at Hermione with a disgruntled expression. Harry, who was more inclined toward pity, tried to say something encouraging to Hermione but then he was interrupted by the arrival of the morning mail.

"Go on, Hermione," said Ron. "You might as well stay for mail. Perhaps Henrietta Handsdowne has sent some gunpowder for you to use at the ball."

Hermione looked contemptuously at Ron but sat back down in her chair nonetheless. Harry was paying little attention to either of them, however. Amidst the eclectic assortment of owls circling through the Great Hall, he had spotted the pristine white shape of Hedwig gliding in gracefully against the brilliant morning blue of the enchanted ceiling. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Hedwig was not alone. Two tawny owls flew alongside her. All three of them were holding onto a long brown package. Hermione and Ron, who had been trying to outdo one another with caustic criticisms, suddenly stopped as they became aware of the three owls coming nearer and nearer. Finally, Hermione had to quickly clear her parchments away as the package was dropped in front of them. Harry quickly fed Hedwig some protesting Wizard puffs while Ron and Hermione tended to the two tawny owls.

Harry's heart beat rapidly. He had little doubt as to what the package contained but who it was from he couldn't say. Hermione and Ron had completely forgotten about their argument and all three began to undo the wrapping.

A sleek long mahogany handle gave way to finely combed bristles on what was clearly a broomstick of impeccable craftsmanship. Gold lettering inscribed on the handle the words:

FIREBOLT II

Harry ran his fingers down the broomstick and dislodged a small yellow envelope that had been magically attached to the end of the handle. Harry opened up the envelope and quickly scanned the contents as Seamus, Catherine, Katie, and Ginny wandered up, along with several other Gryffindors.

Ron asked the question that was burning in everyone's mind.

"Who's it from?"

"It's from – " Harry stopped as he noticed the other students approaching. "I'll tell you later," he said quietly.

"What have you got there, Harry?" asked Catherine.

"Slytherin won't stand a chance now." Katie beamed.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Ginny.

Harry smiled back at his fellow Gryffindors but Hermione could not help but feel that he wasn't quite as jubilant as they were. Harry's friends lingered for a moment before being forced back to their seats by their own mail packages. Before Hermione could ask Harry what he really thought about the broomstick, there was a loud screech and a flurry of feathers as a grey owl flew right into Hermione's face, a red envelope clutched in its beak. Hermione gave a startled cry and ducked out of the way.

"Pig!" cried Ron. "Stop showing off! Give me the letter!"

But Pigwidgeon ignored Ron and kept fluttering around Hermione's face. He finally landed and handed Hermione a large red envelope.

"Not to her, you stupid bird," complained Ron. "Give me the letter."

But Hermione was already opening the envelope, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Hey!" cried Ron. "What are you opening my mail for?"

Hermione turned the front of the envelope around to show Ron "Hermione Granger" written on the front in neat handwritten black ink.

"But it's my bird!" protested Ron. "Why are you getting letters from my bird?"

Hermione just shrugged.

In response, Pigwidgeon flew over expectantly to Ron.

"I'm not giving you anything, you stupid feather ball!" retorted Ron, waving an affronted Pigwidgeon away.

So intent were Ron, Harry, and Hermione on the opening of the letter that none of them noticed Pigwidgeon trot down to the other side of the table and begin receiving owl treats from Ginny.

Hermione opened the letter and read it to herself, her eyebrows arching several times in curiosity. She finished her read with a small gasp and quickly threw the letter down on the table as if it were a hot iron.

"Who's it from?" demanded Ron. "What does it say?"

Hermione smiled at him shrewdly. "Why don't you take a look then?" she suggested.

"Right, I will." Ron's fingers moved toward the envelope, only to recoil quickly as smoke began to appear from the edges. Within moments, the letter had smoldered itself into oblivion.

Ron fixed Hermione with an accusatory stare.

"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes."

Before Ron could reply again, Hermione stood up. "Come on, we'll all be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Harry will want to put his broomstick away first."

Harry didn't mind getting away from what he sensed was yet another spat between his two best friends and he was worried that he might lose his temper at them again. Broomstick in hand, he made his way quickly back to Gryffindor Tower before returning to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

He was already dangerously close to the time that class was due to begin when he rounded the corner and went in through the door to the classroom. He was anxious not to start off with a repeat of his notorious first day in Defense Against the Dark Arts the previous year. He spotted Ron and Hermione near the middle of the classroom, engaged in what Harry could only assume was a continuation of their previous row. Sighing, he shuffled his way in between the Slytherins, whom he noted to his dismay were once again taking the class with them, and his fellow Gryffindors. Harry was nearing his friends when he felt someone tug at his robes. He was about to snap back at whomever it was, convinced it could only be some Slytherin wishing him ill when he found himself looking back into a pair of unnaturally large eyes.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna dreamily. "I see the White-Backed Razorbill helped you find your way here. There's some story going around the school about you escaping from the Death Eaters on your broomstick but I expect they swore you to secrecy, didn't they?"

"Who?" asked Harry, a little non-plussed.

"The White-Backed Razorbill," Luna replied, sounding slightly offended. "Don't worry, you don't need to keep their secret in front of me. I already have their confidence."

"I've never heard of the White-Backed Razorbill!"

Harry looked at his watch anxiously and tried to shuffle his way forward to the vacant seat next to Ron and Hermione.

Luna nodded and winked, certain that they were sharing a close personal secret.

"Luna, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, looking at her properly for the first time. "This is N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"Don't worry," replied Luna. "I haven't wandered into the wrong room again this time. I started my O.W.L. class yesterday but Professor Nevins tested me and I found I already knew all of the spells so he promoted me to this class. I couldn't take it with the Ravenclaws because we have Astronomy at the same hour, and I couldn't very well miss out on that, could I? It's all because of you, you know, Harry. Ginny said you'd stopped the DA classes this year. That's a little stupid, though, I think, don't you?"

"No!" snapped Harry irritably. "Excuse me."

He went off to find Ron and Hermione sitting in their usual seats and took his place next to them. They were still having some sort of argument in low tones. Harry tried to block it out but he kept catching bits and pieces inadvertently.

" – Could have at least told us."

" – Don't see why you need to know anyway."

" – Don't know why you're being so secretive all the time."

"I am not being secretive!"

The last of Hermione's protests had barely left her lips when a dramatic series of events unfolded in a manner of seconds.

There was a large bellowing sound of "Crucio!" Harry turned immediately to see the balding man who had been sitting at the staff table during the feast the night before standing behind the teacher's desk at the front of the room, his wand outstretched and a look of fury in his eyes. The green light from his wand shot out through the center aisle of the classroom only to stop several centimeters in front of Ron's head, which had turned only too late to see what was going on. The light then seemed to hang in the air just in front of Ron who had pressed the back of his chair up against the desk behind, his eyes hypnotized by the green glare of the malevolent spell.

The balding man who, by process of elimination must have been Professor Nevins, casually placed his wand in his pocket and walked over to Ron.

"Your name?" he asked.

"Weasley," squeaked Ron. "R – R – Ron Weasley."

The Slytherins, who were taking the class with them, began to snigger.

"Mr. Weasley," said Nevins in a gruff, authoritative tone. "I would like to thank you for taking part in my little demonstration this morning."

Ron just nodded, his eyes never leaving the wand light.

Professor Nevins turned to survey the remainder of the class. "Welcome to N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Mr. Weasley here has just shown us the full consequences of not paying attention. In a class at school, not paying attention might result in the loss of a few house points but out there in the greater wizarding world," he gestured expansively, "not staying alert can cost you your life!" He ended by pounding his fist assertively on the desk in front of Lavender and Parvati, causing both girls to jump.

"It is fortunate for Mr. Weasley," he added somewhat more quietly, "that I set up a blocking field just a little in front of each row of desks before you all came in this morning so that I was able to protect him a little more effectively than he himself."

Nevins took out his wand again and waved it at the lingering spell.

"Finite Incantatem."

The wand light disappeared and Ron found himself letting out a breath he was not aware he had been holding. But Harry also noticed that his look of fear had faded, replaced for the remainder of the lesson by a narrow-eyed expression of defiance.

Professor Nevins spent most of the lesson explaining blocking fields. The atmosphere was extremely tense following his opening gambit with Ron. Whatever Professor Nevins had intended, he had certainly succeeded in getting everyone's attention. He made it clear that, in welcome contrast to the approach of Professor Umbridge, there would be no textbook, nor did he seem to teach from any lesson plans though Harry had the impression that the whole lesson had been planned with meticulous detail in Nevins' head.

But there was another aspect to Professor Nevins' character that Harry admired less, a trait that reminded him far too much of Professor Snape. He was not above using the students' own fear to force their attention and help them to learn the subject at hand. And while Harry was wary of Nevins for this tactic, Ron was downright hostile. Harry knew this was not only because he had been used as bait in Nevins' original demonstration but also because Ron shared with his entire family an intense dislike of manipulation.

After spending some time discussing the properties of blocking fields to a captive audience, Nevins decided that it was time to test the field out. He selected a series of students whom he called volunteers: Parvati, Neville (who ruefully pointed out afterwards that he was always chosen for these things), Seamus, and Pansy Parkinson. The four students were lined up at the front of his classroom. Nevins took out his wand. "First, I would like to demonstrate what happens when a spell is cast with no blocking field."

The eyes of the four "volunteers" suddenly widened. Neville's jaw dropped.

Nevins drew back his wand and prepared to cast a spell but Ron had seen enough.

"Couldn't you just skip this part?"

Everyone gasped. Hermione tugged pleadingly at Ron's elbow but he shook her off angrily.

Nevins' jaw seem to tighten. He walked slowly over to Ron, still clutching his wand tightly.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"I said 'Couldn't you just skip this part?' I think everyone knows what happens when a spell is cast without a blocking field. I think we also know you could cast some horrible hex on them if you wanted to, or at least that's what you want them to think."

Ron put his hands on his hips and stared up at Nevins, challenging him to respond in kind.

"Mr. Weasley," said Nevins, drawing himself level with Ron's nose. Harry noted that they were about the same height. "I should like to see you after class, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," replied Ron, earning a small cry from Hermione.

"Good."

Nevins returned to the four students. He drew out his wand once again but before a spell could come from his lips, Neville had taken out his own wand. Trembling with fear, he cried out:

"Magnum Impedio."

A blue light came out of Neville's wand and hovered in the air in front of the four students.

Professor Nevins lowered his wand slightly, a small smile growing on the corner of his mouth.

"How interesting," he decided. "It seems Mr. Longbottom has succeeded in casting a blocking spell and I distinctly heard him say to his partner during my explanation that he never thought he could do it. Necessity is indeed a powerful teacher. Let's see how effective he is."

Neville swallowed again as Nevins raised his wand.

"Riddiculo Tikkilo."

The class laughed as they recognized Nevins' spell, breaking the tension considerably. But the four volunteer students remained stoic as Nevins' spell bounced harmlessly off Neville's blocking field.

"Excellent." Nevins smiled more broadly, which Harry thought made him look an oversized ferret with a piece of food stuck in its tooth. "I believe Mr. Longbottom deserves a round of applause."

Neville stood in shock as the class broke into enthusiastic applause but Harry noticed that Ron did not join in. Instead, he kept his hands to his sides and continued to stare angrily at Nevins.

Nevins finished the class with another lecture about sustaining one's blocking fields and then assigned a parchment explaining the properties he had just discussed in his lecture, complete with diagrams. Finally, it was time for the class to end and Hermione and Harry prepared to make their way toward their next class, N.E.W.T. transfiguration.

"Good luck, mate." Harry drew a deep breath and patted Ron on the shoulder.

Hermione looked torn between disapproval and concern and finally told Ron that they would save him a seat and wished him luck.

And then Ron was alone with Nevins.

Nevins sat behind the desk and stared into space for a moment, waiting for all of the students to leave. Ron was determined not to let the professor intimidate him by any delay tactics. He walked purposefully up to his desk.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Ron made sure to look Nevins directly in the eye.

"Mr. Weasley," Nevins said again, slowly, with a small sigh.

"I suppose you want me to do some sort of horrible detention."

Nevins didn't respond. Instead he asked:

"In what house do you belong, Mr. Weasley?"

"Gryffindor," replied Ron, without hesitation. "Going to shave a few points off then?"

"Nothing of the sort." Nevins waved his wand dismissively. "I myself was in Ravenclaw," he said, suddenly adopting a conversational tone. "I was quite clever with spells but I was not quite as brave as you are."

Ron did not respond.

Nevins sighed again. "Mr. Weasley, let me come straight to the point. I spent many years as an auror and I'm sure it will not surprise you to know that most dark wizards – and witches – are in command of a formidable array of curses unthinkable to any decent wizard and that it falls upon me to prepare you and your classmates to resist them."

Ron took a half step closer to Nevins. "And you think we should have to learn them whatever the cost, don't you?"

"Hardly." It was Nevins' turn to look Ron in the eye. "I happen to think and know that in the darkest days of He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named, the most terrible curses he and his followers used were nothing compared to the power of fear and intimidation they wielded. The Dark Mark was little more than a simple conjuring spell but it once held every witch and wizard in England paralyzed to You-Know-Who's will. I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Weasley, because I want you to realize that you have a gift, a very rare one, even in your own house. You showed me in class today that you are not easily intimidated."

Ron had resolved to resist any attempt at manipulation but he could not help but feel non-plussed at Nevins' unexpected praise.

"In the course of your life, perhaps even in the not too distant future, you may encounter dark wizards who have gained enormous power through their ability to inspire both loyalty and fear. Few possess the means to resist this power. But perhaps you do. You must cherish and cultivate this gift, Mr. Weasley, and you should not allow anyone to tell you it is anything other. For a time may come when both you and those you are close to will need to rely on it."

Ron suddenly found himself nodding.

"You should go now," said Nevins, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You will be late for your next class."

Ron nodded again in a curt manner and turned to leave.

"And Mr. Weasley," said Nevins as Ron had just reached the door. "Twenty points to Gryffindor."

Ron left before Nevins could see his face turn red.

* * *

After class had finished, Harry and Hermione started to make their way to Transfiguration but then had second thoughts. As Harry pointed out, given the circumstances of Ron's unenviable position, he could hardly forgive himself for abandoning him and he felt that the least they could do was wait outside the classroom, even if it meant they were all late for McGonagall. Hermione reluctantly agreed although she insisted that Ron should not have spoken the way he did to Professor Nevins no matter what he had thought of his teaching.

"So," said Hermione to Harry once they were alone. "Who was the broomstick from anyway?"

"Oh," said Harry. He fished the yellow envelope out of the pocket of his robes and handed it to Hermione.

Dear Harry,

I know that nothing will ever really replace the broomstick that Sirius gave you but I hope you will accept this gift with my congratulations on being named back to the team. We are working hard to keep you safe this year, Harry, but you must trust us. Work hard in your lessons, stay close to your friends, and good luck with the Quidditch Cup. If you find yourself in any danger, send an owl with Hedwig. She'll know where to find us. Good luck, Harry.

Remus Lupin

Harry breathed deeply and placed the envelope quickly back into his pocket.

"He's right," he said glumly. "Nothing will ever replace it."

"But it was very nice of Professor Lupin to give it you, Harry. It must have cost an awful lot and he's so poor. I don't know how he ever – "

Hermione gasped as Harry suddenly slammed his bare fist against the stone wall in front of him. When he took his hand away, his knuckles were bleeding.

"Oh, Harry!" said Hermione. "You should go to Madam Pomfrey. That hand – "

"Why do they always take away everything I care about?" he demanded angrily. "Why?"

Hermione took a cautious step back from Harry, shrugging and feeling very helpless.

"It's all right," said Harry, suddenly quiet. "It's not that bad a cut."

Just then, the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom opened and Ron marched out, his face flushed red and his head down, lost in thought. He barely noticed Harry and Hermione as he made his way directly toward the Transfiguration classroom.

Hermione tried to keep pace, looking nervously from Harry to Ron.

"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "He was just trying to wind you up. Just don't let him get to you."

"He's just some stuck up old git," Harry added, a little to Hermione's relief. "Lucky you won't have him for extra lessons like I will."

"Actually," Ron surprised both of them by breaking into a grin. "I think he's brilliant."

* * *

Lunch passed in relative silence. Harry had conjured a makeshift bandage for his hand. Ron had started to ask what had happened but was silenced with a quick look from Hermione. She was less successful, however, in stopping him from asking Harry about his new broomstick.

"Lupin gave it to me," Harry replied dully.

"It looks wizard," said Ron. "When are you going to try it out?"

"Dunno."

"Look, Harry," said Hermione firmly, as Ron looked puzzled. "Sirius wouldn't have wanted to act like this, you know. He would have wanted you to go on with your life. He would have been especially wanted you to enjoy the gift that his best friend had given you."

Ron looked at Hermione like she had just walked in front of a firing squad.

"And what do you think I want to do?" Harry snapped angrily.

"I don't know!" replied Hermione just as hotly. "It seems like you want to mope around like you're already half dead or something!"

"You don't know what it's like! You can't know! You've never – you're not the one that has to – "

Harry froze.

"Yes?" said Hermione expectantly.

Harry sighed.

"Never mind," he said resignedly. "You're right. I'm sorry. It is a wonderful broomstick, much better than my other one, in fact," he admitted grudgingly.

There was a moment of silence. Then Ron, noticing that Hermione was still in one piece, said:

"Look, mate, I've got an idea. Why don't we try it out together? This afternoon, at the Quidditch pitch?"

Harry's face seemed to brighten slightly.

"OK," he said.

"We've got Charms first," said Hermione. "And then I've got Arithmancy."

"And I've got Divination," said Ron.

"I don't know why you're still taking it," said Hermione. "I thought you said it was a useless subject."

"Yeah, but now Firenze's teaching it. He's cool."

"I still think it's a useless subject," replied Hermione. "And Firenze's not – "

Harry suddenly started making a sound like an angry Norwegian Ridgeback.

"Could you two please stop having a go at each other, just this once?"

Ron and Hermione immediately stopped talking.

"Good," said Harry, still looking as if he was struggling to contain himself. "Now, Hermione, you have Arithmancy and Ron you have Divination, so let's meet at 4 o'clock at the front of the school, all right?"

* * *

Harry had to admit that he found his attitude to the broomstick had changed following his lunch with Hermione and Ron. After owling a thank you to Lupin, Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower to wait for his friends to finish their lessons. Finally, when Harry was convinced that he could wait no longer, the clock in the common room completed its slow march toward the beginning of a new hour and it was finally time for Ron and Hermione to get out of class. The trio met at the front entrance to the school as they had arranged and made their way together to the Quidditch pitch. Ron had brought the Omnioculars Harry had given him his fourth year so that could automatically review the dives and turns Harry was making in the sky. Harry wasn't sure whether it was his imagination but it seemed that his broomstick vibrated harder and harder in his grip as if it could sense the pitch coming nearer.

When they finally reached the pitch, Harry could not remember even mounting the broom before he felt it resting underneath him as he flew through the sky. He had thought that nothing could ever compare to his old Firebolt but he had to confess that this version was even sleeker and cleaner than its predecessor. Where his first Firebolt had seemed to move to his every thought, this model seemed to anticipate every curve and dive before even he himself knew that he wanted to make them. Up in the air on his broomstick, Harry seemed to feel his burdens flying away like the ground beneath his feet.

Finally, after he had circled the pitch a number of times and was aware that Ron and Hermione were waiting patiently below, Harry broke into a deep dive that forced his two friends to move backwards and then glided gracefully to a halt on the grass.

"Go on," he said to Ron, the ghost of a smile on his face. "You have a go."

"Me?" Ron pointed to himself in disbelief.

"Yeah. You didn't come down here just to look, did you?"

Ron took the Firebolt gingerly in his hand and gave a sharp cry as the broomstick seemed to ease its way underneath him and lift him into the sky of its own will. Ron looped several times around the Quidditch pitch, accelerating the Firebolt to tremendous speeds, before finally swooping back down to the grass where Hermione and Harry were waiting.

Ron handed the broomstick back to Harry. "It's wicked fast, Harry. No one will have a chance to catch you in that."

"Go on, Hermione," said Harry, handing the broomstick to her. "Have a go, then."

"No, Harry, I – I can't," protested Hermione. "I love to watch you play but I'm no good at Quidditch, you know that."

"Anyone can fly on that broomstick, Hermione," declared Ron.

"No, really," Hermione protested again. "You go on, Harry."

Harry shrugged. He wasn't going to be told twice. He lifted off up into the air again, arching his broomstick through the sky like a knife. He cut several more curves around the Quidditch pitch. This time, he flew high above the stands and practiced making sharp dives as if he could see the snitch below him. Suddenly, he felt a slight tug on his broomstick. Concerned, he leveled it out and flew straight and slower. For a moment, he thought he must have pulled out of the dive too fast and let his imagination get carried away with him but then he felt it again. He was about to land and examine his Firebolt from the ground when he suddenly became aware of the obvious source of the aberration. Standing like small insects on the ground of the Quidditch pitch on the opposite side from Hermione and Ron, were three green-cloaked figures. Harry didn't need to move any closer to figure out who they were.

But closer he did move. Crabbe and Goyle scattered just as Ron and Hermione had as Harry raced his Firebolt to their position but Malfoy stood his ground. Harry could see he had his wand out and wore a supercilious smirk on his face which Harry desperately wanted to wipe clean.

"I see you have a new broomstick, Potter," Malfoy remarked smoothly, turning so that Harry could see the Prefect badge on his right breast more clearly.

Harry glared at Malfoy. "Funny, my old one seems to have gone missing."

"Come now, Potter," chided Malfoy. "There's no need for the sour face. You can't fly around like that in a real Quidditch match." He held up his wand. "I'm only trying to help."

Crabbe suddenly began giggling. Harry turned around to look at him, undecided as to whether such stupidity merited any kind of response.

At that moment, he suddenly felt Malfoy snatch the broomstick out of his hand.

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry felt his patience slipping away rapidly.

Malfoy did not respond immediately. He studied the broomstick in his hand, running his fingers slowly up and down the handle. "Excellent workmanship, Potter. You needn't worry though," he said handing the broomstick back to Harry who snatched it from his hands. "I've actually got one just like it." He suddenly produced his own Firebolt II which he had been holding in his other arm.

"I expected you needed a replacement in a hurry," Harry retorted through clenched teeth.

"Well, don't let me stand in your way." Malfoy folded his arms.

Harry kept his distance and lifted back up into the sky.

This time, Crabbe and Goyle managed to resist giggling until after Harry was safely out of earshot. But Malfoy neither laughed nor smiled. His face hardened with a look of determination as he looked briefly at the broomstick in his hand and took out his wand once again.

* * *

Looking through his Omnioculars from the other end of the field, Ron saw something quite different develop. He watched Malfoy talking to Harry and then it looked like Crabbe had said something that had caused him to turn in his direction. Then, as Harry's attention was distracted, Malfoy had moved with the accomplished skill of a quick-change artist. He had switched Harry's broomstick with his own identical model. Ron watched in horror as Harry jumped back into the air and Malfoy took out his wand again.

"Oh, no!" he cried.

"What is it?" said Hermione.

"Malfoy. He's switched the brooms."

"No!" cried Hermione. She and Ron started running across the pitch. She tried to cry out to Harry but they were too far away.

Ron took out his wand and placed it to his mouth. "Sonorus. Harry!" he cried again, his voice resounding throughout the stadium.

But Harry was already up high in the air and far away from Ron's amplified voice. Ron and Hermione ran harder across the pitch. They both knew that their best chance was to reach Malfoy in time.

* * *

Harry had already flown well above the Quidditch stands again preparing to make his mock dives for the snitch when he became aware of a loud cry and swung his Firebolt around to see his two friends running toward Malfoy, looking up in the sky and waving their hands frantically.

A sick panic started to spread over Harry. He could tell that something was wrong and he was sure it had to do with Malfoy. He started to make his way back down to the ground.

And then it was as if the sky had collapsed down onto the earth.

Harry's broomstick began to tumble end to end through the air. He struggled to hold on as his head spun with dizziness and his stomach churned with nausea. The horrible panic of those desperate minutes flying through the Forbidden Forest suddenly flew back to Harry like a relentless beast. Harry could taste bile in his throat as the tumbling abruptly ceased and he found himself careering sharply down toward the hard wooden seats at the top row of stands. He accelerated harder and harder, throwing up his hands to his face in a futile attempt to brace himself against what would surely be a shattering impact. Then just as he was certain Malfoy was planning to throw him hard into the seats, Harry felt the broomstick twist sharply back toward the open field. Harry tried hard to keep his balance from the sudden shift but he felt his legs slide slowly away from the broomstick and struggled to hold on with his hands.

The broomstick started to loop and dive once again. In between gritting his teeth and trying to keep his balance, Harry wondered how far Malfoy would take his amusement. Clearly he had control of the broomstick. He must have done something to it when he took it away or perhaps he had switched it with his own and Ron and Hermione had spotted him. He remembered the familiar rider who had chased him through the forest, the one Harry was now sure must have been Malfoy. Given the chance to strike, Malfoy had only tried to stun and not kill him. But was that because Malfoy couldn't stomach himself to take Harry's life or because he hadn't possessed the magical ability? He had participated in a chase that was clearly intended to finish Harry. Could he get away with killing him now? Would he claim it was an accident? Were the Death Eaters prepared to whisk him away from the consequences of his actions? Whatever the case, Harry knew that Malfoy now held his life on the tip of a wand.

Harry had little time for reflection as his felt himself spinning around in the sky over the ground. Finally, the broomstick righted itself and changed course again to cannon toward the earth. Harry thought briefly of diving off the broomstick onto the ground but he was moving too fast to make any kind of escape. Just as he could taste the earth beneath his broom, Harry felt himself thrown back high into the sky and the whole process began all over again. Malfoy was toying with him like a rubber ball on the end of a stick.

* * *

Hermione ran hard across the grass, ignoring a throbbing pain from the stitch that was growing steadily in her side. They were close enough now that the Slytherins could see them coming but Malfoy continued to twirl his wand idly in the sky, a faint smirk moving back and forth on his lips.

Ron's long legs carried him much faster than Hermione and he was first to reach the three Slytherins.

"Hello, Weasley," said Malfoy coyly. "Seems Potter is having a bit of trouble with – "

Exactly what Harry's trouble was no one ever found out. Ron ran hard toward Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle tried to stand in his way but Ron slipped sideways and dodged them like practice pylons and then shoved Malfoy, wand and all, roughly into the ground. Ron tried to punch Malfoy in the side of the head but Malfoy dodged the blow and grabbed Ron around the shoulders. The two of them then began rolling around on the earth.

Hermione reached the others just as Crabbe and Goyle were preparing to move in and give Malfoy the advantage. Hermione stepped lithely in front of them and blocked their path.

"I wouldn't come any closer," she warned between pants.

Seeing that he and Crabbe were more than a head taller than and nearly twice as big as Hermione, Goyle let out a snigger. But his smile faded when Hermione took out her wand.

"Now," she said menacingly. "I can either cast a particularly nasty hex on the pair of you or simply stick this wand up one of your cavernous bodily orifices."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other in alarm. Neither had really understood whatever it was Hermione had just said but they both realized that when it came to a battle of wands with Hermione Granger, they were going to be hopeless.

Ron and Malfoy continued to roll around on the ground, each trying to free an arm to strike. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Harry sketching large loops in the sky that mirrored Malfoy's tumbling in the grass.

"Ron, be careful!" she cried, not taking her eyes off Crabbe and Goyle. "Get his wand!"

Finally, Malfoy and Ron rolled up against Hermione's feet. Leaning down quickly, her other wand still trained on Crabbe and Goyle, she slipped Malfoy's wand out from under his restrained hand and pointed it at Harry. She guided his broomstick like a kite, slowing his pace and gradually directing him to the ground.

Harry exhaled deeply as he felt his feet touch the ground. He immediately hurtled away the broomstick like a poisonous snake. Clutching his stomach, he edged his way slowly toward Ron and Malfoy.

Ron was gaining the edge in the battle, more through sheer spite and determination than brute strength, and had now pinned Malfoy's arms behind him.

"Go on, Harry," he said. "Give him your best shot."

But Harry noticed that, despite the predicament he was in, a self-satisfied smirk had still not erased itself from Malfoy's lips. In fact, it seemed to be growing wider.

Harry suddenly heard Hermione gasp. "Harry," she said weakly, turning around and tugging on the sleeve of his robe.

"Well, well, well," said a low, cool voice behind them. "What have we here?"

Harry suddenly felt as if his backbone had been replaced by a rod of solid ice. Ron immediately released his grip on Malfoy and the two of them stood up. Harry noticed that there was a nasty bruise on the side of Ron's face and blood dripped from Malfoy's jaw. He turned around slowly to see the crooked nose of Acting Headmaster Severus Snape staring down at him, his presence, as always, completely undetectable until he had been right on top of them.

But Ron was determined to go down swinging. "Malfoy could have killed Harry!" he spat angrily. "If I hadn't have stopped him – "

Malfoy cut Ron off coolly. "I apologize for the disturbance, headmaster, but we're all aware of Potter's great skill on the Quidditch field," he drawled. "Surely he would not have come to any harm, that is, until I was attacked and lost control of my wand."

Harry didn't doubt that very few people would have believed Malfoy's story and he could see that Crabbe was struggling hard to suppress another fit of giggles, but he also did not doubt that Snape would have accepted nearly any explanation. Snape's icy remark about the well-oiled Hogwarts Express came back to Harry like a horrible case of indigestion. He briefly wondered where Ron would go if he was expelled from Hogwarts, what his parents would say, what shame it might bring on his family, and what life at school would be like without his best friend.

But he wondered these things only for a moment for very quickly, something happened that none of them had expected.

Snape reached over, grabbed Malfoy roughly by the folds of his robes, and fixed him with an expression of deep hatred that Harry was sure no Gryffindor had ever witnessed.

Malfoy's smirk disappeared very quickly.

"You." He dragged Malfoy off the ground, earning a frightened gasp. "You attacked another Hogwarts student in a life-threatening manner. You are clearly unfit for this!" Snape snatched Malfoy's Prefect pin away deliberately tearing the front of his robes in the process. "I will be writing to your mother about this, you will serve a detention, and one hundred points will be taken from Slytherin for your gross misconduct! And," Snape's mouth curled up in a sneer. "I will personally make sure that everyone in the house knows who was responsible for the loss."

Snape turned a frightened Malfoy around and marched him in the direction of the castle.

"Potter. Weasley." Snape's eyes moved shiftily back and forth between the two Gryffindors who still looked like they expected the worse. "Hospital wing."

Ron and Harry just nodded and followed Snape, Malfoy, and a nervous looking Crabbe and Goyle back to the school.

"What – no loss of points for Gryffindor, at all?" Ron could hardly believe what he was seeing.

"Sssh!" Hermione put her finger to her lips.

Though his body felt awful, Harry felt a smile spread across his lips. He bent down to pick up his real Firebolt and joined Ron and Hermione on the journey back to the castle. On measure of things, he thought, today had been a much better day than yesterday.


	7. Secrets Shared And Secrets Kept

Chapter 7

Secrets Shared and Secrets Kept

Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat together at breakfast the following morning, still in shock over the events of the previous afternoon. Harry and Ron had both escaped from the hospital wing fairly quickly: Harry had mostly just needed something to calm his stomach which had still felt like it was spinning around in the sky.

"He must have been really mad at Malfoy," reasoned Hermione. "After all, he did do something really horrible to you, Harry."

"I don't know," said Harry. "He's let some pretty bad things go in the past. It seems too good to be true."

Harry sipped his milk, then heard a fluttering sound and saw Hedwig land on the table next to him holding a narrow white envelope in her beak. At first, he thought it might be a reply from Lupin but then he noticed the official Hogwarts seal on the back. Harry took the envelope away and started to open it, handing some nearby owl treats to Hedwig.

Harry had barely retrieved the letter when it floated up in the air and transfigured itself into the likeness of Professor Snape.

"I think perhaps it is too good to be true," muttered Harry.

Hermione gasped and Ron dropped orange juice all over his lap. "Bloody hell, it's a bit early in the morning," he declared.

Snape's ghostly face hovered for a moment and then turned itself to Harry and said in a low tone.

"Mr. Potter, your presence is required in my office this morning at 10 o'clock."

Snape's face evaporated with an unceremonious poof leaving only the envelope.

"That's torn it," declared Ron. "Well." He shrugged. "It was nice while it lasted."

Hermione suddenly looked at her watch. "Oh, it's nearly 8:30. I've got to go."

Ron turned around to look at her. "More library work?"

Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment. "No, actually, er – I'm meeting someone." She suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Ron looked more suspicious. "Another S.P.E.W. arrangement, I take it?"

"Yes, that's right," Hermione replied in a business-like tone and quickly turned around to leave the Great Hall.

"I wish I knew what she was planning for this ball," Ron muttered after she left.

"I don't know why you care so much," said Harry edgily.

Ron looked back up at him in surprise.

"Well, it just seems that you're always getting into her business. Why don't you give it a rest?"

"I'm just concerned about her. She's overdoing it again, you know."

"I know." Harry suddenly felt very stupid. He looked at his best friend and saw that there were heavy bags under his eyes. Ron obviously hadn't slept very much again that night. He wanted to ask why but he felt he had better not say anything more after his last ill-considered remark. It wasn't like Ron to keep things inside. Harry just hoped he would tell him if there was anything important.

* * *

Hermione pushed open the door to the vacant Potions classroom.

"Ginny?" she said tentatively.

"In here," said a quiet voice. Ginny was standing against the wall that bordered the corridor, just behind where Hermione had opened the door, a strangely furtive expression on her face.

"'This letter will self-destruct in five seconds?'"

Ginny shrugged.

Hermione didn't answer. Instead, she sat down on a chair in the second row and invited Ginny to do the same. Ginny stared at the chair for a moment as if it was going to attack her and then slowly sat down.

"Ginny, what's going on?" said Hermione. "You look awful! You don't need to send me an owl to come and talk to me."

"Well, you're always busy now," said Ginny vacantly. "I was afraid that you wouldn't have time unless I said it was important."

"I'll always have time to talk to you, Ginny, you know that. Now what is it?"

Ginny sighed and looked down at the ground for a few moments, then back up at Hermione.

"Dean and I broke up," she said somberly.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm really sorry. Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe Harry – "

Ginny looked up at Hermione.

"No, you don't understand. It's over because I wanted it to be. I was the one who broke it up."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"I saw you fighting with him at lunch."

Ginny nodded.

"I know. Thank you for breaking the bowl. The last thing I wanted was Ron to get involved."

"I know, Ginny." Hermione paused. "But if you broke it up, what is it you wanted to talk to me about then?"

Ginny looked back down at the floor again nervously.

"Hermione, look," she said finally. "I wasn't too bothered breaking up with Michael. I didn't think he deserved me. But Dean – Dean was nice – is nice and he really liked me. I know I really hurt his feelings even though he won't say. I don't want to hurt someone like that again."

Hermione smiled sagely.

"But Ginny, no one wants to hurt anyone. I didn't want to hurt Viktor either but it just wasn't right for us and it obviously wasn't right for you and Dean either. He'll get over it. He's good-looking; I'm sure he'll find someone else in no time. You didn't mean to hurt him. You liked him a lot at first, I remember."

But Ginny was already shaking her head.

"I thought he was dishy but that's probably about as far as it ever really went."

"Well, so what? We all get carried away like that sometimes. I – "

But Ginny was shaking her head again.

"No, Hermione," she said, a little more forcefully, finally looking up at her. "You don't understand. I've been living a lie for the past two years. I didn't really care about Michael; I didn't really care about Dean either. I dated them because they made me feel good about myself. I didn't know it; I didn't want to admit it myself. But the truth is that I'm still in love with Harry."

Hermione's jaw dropped. All color seemed to drain from her face. Finally, after a moment of stunned silence, Hermione started to shake her head vigorously.

"No, no, no, Ginny. No, you're not. You can't be. You're over him, remember? We talked about this ages ago!"

"I know, Hermione. I thought I was over him but not that I know I'm not; maybe I never was."

And then Ginny added in a very small voice.

"Maybe I never will be."

"No," said Hermione again, some of her authoritative demeanor starting to return. "You're just – sensitive, right now, Ginny. You've just broken up with Dean and you're looking for acceptance. And God knows this isn't a very big school. You'll find someone else soon and then you'll forget all about – "

"No, Hermione," said Ginny determined. "I'm not going to forget about him. I know I'm not."

She felt on the point of telling Hermione about her nightmares. She knew they had something to do with this but it was just too much to bring herself to say it.

"Ginny, listen to me. This is a really bad time to be going after Harry. He's not interested in any kind of romance now. He told Ron and me yesterday that he was beyond those things now or something. And," Hermione's face creased in concern. "He's – he's unstable now. He slammed his fist into a stone wall yesterday, Ginny. I – I just worry what would happen if you tried to get close to him. I'm really afraid you'd get hurt."

"Why are you and Ron so afraid of him?" demanded Ginny, her eyes suddenly full of anger. "You're supposed to be his best friends but you act like he has some kind of terminal disease or something!"

"You don't know what it's like!" Hermione shot back, just as angry. "You're not with him all the time. One minute he's fine and the next he's having a fit! I – I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what he's feeling; I don't think anyone does!"

"I do," said Ginny quietly.

There was another long pause.

"I don't know what it was like for him to lose Sirius," Ginny went on. "But I know what it's like when Voldemort makes your life a living hell because I was there, too."

Hermione tried to talk but she realized that her tongue had suddenly stuck to the roof of her mouth. Ginny had never said anything like this to her before.

Tears started to edge down Ginny's eyelashes like raindrops on the branches of a tree.

"And I know how lonely it feels," Ginny added, looking down at her desk again. "Oh, I had plenty of people around me trying to say things to comfort me, but all they wanted to do was talk and I just needed someone to listen. I was just like Harry is now but I was much quieter about it and believe me, you don't have to act the way he does. And I got out of it, Hermione," she said, looking up at her. "Mostly, anyway. And I did it all by myself. But there are still some things – " Ginny's face creased anxiously. "Some things I've never told anyone, Hermione, I – I – I – "

"Ginny," said Hermione very gently. "Ginny, you can tell me those things. Right now. I'm not going anywhere and I'll never tell anyone, I promise."

"No," Ginny flinched and shook her head as if tossing a fly out of her face. "I – I can't tell you. I – I – I can only tell Harry. He was there. He saved my life and h – he knows what it's like and I – I love him. I just have to make him realize that he's not alone and he's not the only one."

Hermione was about to tell Ginny she was being irrational but a look in the younger girl's eyes made her pause.

"OK, Ginny, fine," she said finally. "But if you really feel that way about Harry, then you have to tell him."

Ginny frowned.

Hermione placed her palms squarely down on the top of her desk.

"I can't believe this, Ginny! I just can't believe this. For the last five minutes you've been standing here telling me that you didn't really mean everything you've just told me for the last two years, and now that you've finally convinced me, you still don't want to go and tell Harry himself? If you really still do fancy Harry, Ginny, that's fine, but do yourself a favor and don't go back to being the shy little girl who was scared to even look at him."

"I don't want to!" retorted Ginny. "Hermione, that's the last thing I want!"

"Then you have to tell him, because that's exactly what that shy little girl couldn't do."

Ginny bit her fingernails nervously.

"OK," she finally said.

There was a moment's pause.

"Was that all you wanted to talk to me about, Ginny?" said Hermione softly. "Because I'm already late for class."

Ginny nodded slowly.

Hermione walked over and put her arms around her younger friend.

"It's going to be all right, Ginny."

I hope, Hermione thought.

* * *

Ron frowned at Hermione's vacant chair. Binns emerged through the blackboard and began beaming about the finalization of some arrangement for the Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra's appearance and then slipped back into a deadly dull monotone that he was apparently going to continue for the remainder of the period. Ron tried to force himself to concentrate: his mother had not exactly been pleased with his failure in the History of Magic O.W.L. but he found it impossible to concentrate on Binns no matter how hard he tried. His mother hadn't been particularly sympathetic to this excuse – of course, Percy and Bill and Charlie had never had any trouble – but Ron wished for once that she could come into the class herself and try to remember anything Binns had said.

A few minutes into the class, the back door of the classroom burst open and Hermione rushed in, her bushy hair flying like a tangled spider's web all over her face. There was a time when Hermione never arrived late to class but now it seemed to happen about half the time. Harry moved over so she could sit down next to him but Ron, who was sitting in the chair closest to the aisle resolved not to budge at all. Hermione had to push past the back of his chair to get to the vacant seat in the middle.

Ron looked sideways at Hermione who was busily preparing her quill and parchment and pretending to hang on Binns' every word. Ron tried to remember a name and date that Binns had just passed on in relation to yet another goblin uprising but found the information seemed to evaporate halfway from his ear to his brain. Harry was right, he thought. He shouldn't worry himself so much about Hermione's extracurricular activities. What did he care what happened at the ball, anyway? Try as he might, and for all he had told Harry, Ron couldn't think of anyone he liked enough to warrant the humiliation of having to ask.

The truth was that Ron didn't care about what happened at the ball at all, but he did care about why Hermione was so being so secretive all of the time. Or maybe she wasn't being secretive at all; Harry didn't seem to think she was. Maybe it was all in Ron's head. Ron knew in some rational corner of his mind that he wasn't being quite fair to Hermione. But reluctant as he was to admit it to himself, the truth was that he felt somehow cheated. On the night when they had thought Harry had died, Hermione had been open, sensitive, and vulnerable and all she had wanted was for him to hold her in his arms. There was a time when he could not stand being hugged by Hermione, but now he was beginning to miss it. But as soon as Harry had returned, Hermione had been bossy, over-critical, and constantly busy. The Hermione that had opened herself up that first night at Hogwarts was locked somewhere far away and Ron didn't know how to find her. He found himself holding on to those few moments when Hermione was actually together with them like precious treasures, even if they had spent much of those times fighting. And when he had expected her to turn up for class at the very least and when she had still not arrived, he had found himself bitterly resentful.

While it might have seemed strange to anyone else, it was not in Ron's character to easily understand these feelings or where they were leading. Moreover, he was decidedly afraid to find out. But he was also coming to the steady realization that he wasn't going to able to keep things to himself forever. Harry had already started to notice. More to the point, Ron still did not know what it was Hermione had wanted to tell him that first night. Ron had been convinced it was something important but now he was equally sure that whatever it had been, Hermione was not going to tell him of her own accord. He was either going to suffer not knowing the whole year like feeling the constant throbbing pain of a horrible nagging boil or he was going to have to ask her.

Ron was not happy with either alternative and, as a result, he was not happy with Hermione.

* * *

Binns finally disappeared into the blackboard and Harry consulted his watch. It was now ten minutes to ten. As much as he had resolved himself to try and concentrate on Binns' lectures this term after an ignominious performance on his History of Magic O.W.L. last term, Harry had found he could think of little else other than his approaching interrogation with the dreaded acting headmaster.

"We'll stay outside, Harry," Hermione looked meaningfully at Ron who seemed, to her annoyance, to be staring off into space.

Ron suddenly snapped to life and nodded.

Harry frowned. "No, look, he won't like you being out there. It'll just make things worse."

"Well, we'll wait round the corner, then," said Ron. "He won't go looking."

Snape apparently had possessed the decency to remain in his own office instead of moving into Dumbledore's. Harry had always thought of it as being miles away from anywhere but on this occasion they seemed to arrive quite quickly.

He left Hermione and Ron around the corner and gingerly knocked on Snape's door, fighting away a sudden attack of nausea.

"Enter," came a voice from inside.

* * *

Ron heard Harry enter Snape's office and closed the door behind him with a sharp click that seemed to resound throughout the empty corridor around them.

Both he and Hermione seemed to wait for a moment, then look at each other. Ron realized as he was doing so that this was the first time they had been alone together since the night they had sat together in Dumbledore's office. He felt a horrible, creeping nervousness rise to his cheeks as he also realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to ask Hermione what it was she had wanted to tell him. Ron discovered almost immediately, however, that his lips seemed wired shut.

There was a sudden sound of quick, light footsteps from the corridor behind him and Ron felt the mounting tension suddenly unwind. He turned around to see the first-year student Arabella jogging toward them, her shoes tapping against the stone floor like the staccato beat of a drum. She was holding a piece of parchment in her hand.

"Oh, Hermione," she said, her brown eyes widening. "I've just come from the library. I finished looking up the information you asked me to find on Uric the Oddball and the house-elf uprising."

Hermione took the parchment from Arabella and read it with apparent interest.

"They even drafted a house elf bill of rights," Arabella continued, hopping back and forth on her feet with enthusiasm and bearing little resemblance to the terrified child who had sat next to them at the table during the feast two nights before. "It was all stuck in the back of this book in a small note, just like it wasn't anything important." Arabella frowned suddenly.

Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled sagely. "These things often are, Arabella. Thank you very much. This will help us a great deal."

Arabella blushed slightly and left Hermione with a grin and a wave.

Hermione turned from the parchment to look up anxiously at Ron, steeling herself to fend off an acerbic remark. Ron had been secretly impressed at Hermione's compassion toward Arabella at the feast but now that he saw the direction their friendship had apparently taken, he was much less appreciative. The words "child exploitation" danced on his lips but he forced himself to restrain them.

Ron then saw Hermione's expression change from concern to surprise when no remark was forthcoming. He felt his heart start to beat faster and he knew that this the best chance he was likely to get to recover the Hermione he had met in Dumbledore's office three nights before.

"I wonder what Snape's saying to him in there," Hermione had suddenly started saying, seeming anxious to make some sort of small talk and change the topic of conversation. "I – "

"Hermione." Ron cut her off.

Hermione stopped talking and suddenly looked at Ron with even greater surprise. It was obvious to her from the way he had interrupted and the tone of his voice that he had something serious to say to her.

"Ron," she said tentatively. "What is it?"

"You – you remember that night, the time we were in Dumbledore's office, the night we thought – well – "

"Of course I do." Hermione suddenly felt nervous as Ron's pallor became identical to that of his sister a few hours earlier.

"Well, I – I, you know, I was just thinking about, well, I mean," Ron was suddenly looking down at his shoes. "Well, when we were – I mean, when we were talking, y – you said there was something you wanted to tell me and well," he looked up, feeling a sudden strange burst of courage. "Honestly, Hermione, you didn't tell me and I've really been dying to know."

Hermione continued to stare at him for a moment, a look of surprise still fixed on her face. Ron suddenly noticed that the ink on the parchment Arabella had given her was starting to smudge from the sweat on her hands.

"That," she finally said. "Yes." She started to look away. "I remember. OK," she sighed. "I'll tell you."

* * *

Harry slowly opened the door and walked in. He was determined that Snape was not going to get to him. He was going to make it very clear right now, at the beginning of the term, that just because Dumbledore wasn't here, it did not mean that Snape could just harass Harry and his friends mercilessly. A wave of anger rushed over Harry as he remembered, for the umpteenth time, how Snape had goaded Sirius mercilessly the Christmas before about not being able to leave Grimmauld Place. Even though Harry had accepted Sirius' death as his responsibility, he still could not help but think that the crooked nose "acting headmaster" had had a role to play. And then there was the matter of his Occlumency lessons. Harry was sure he didn't want these to continue, whatever his recent decision to trust Dumbledore's plans for him, and he would make this quite clear to Snape as well.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, Harry walked straight up to Snape's desk and said:

"You wanted to see me – sir."

Snape was sitting on the other side of his desk, cradling some sort of foul smelling liquid in a small cup in his hands, which he seemed to be studying thoughtfully. For a brief irrational moment, Harry wondered if Snape was going to poison him or administer some kind of veritaserum.

But then Snape looked up, a thin scowl lining his face as if he was trying to smile but had forgotten how.

"Tea?" he asked Harry, pointing to a large pot on the other side of his desk.

Harry was so surprised that he dropped his bag onto the floor. "Er, no, no, I mean, no, sir."

Snape shrugged, poured some of the contents of the pot into his cup and began to drink it.

He looked down again for what seemed to Harry like a brief eternity and then searched Harry with a stare. Harry forced himself not to look away.

"I'll come straight to the point, Potter."

"You do that, sir."

"I suppose you are probably wondering why I chose to punish Mr. Malfoy yesterday afternoon rather than Mr. Weasley and yourself."

"Not really, sir," Harry lied. "That is – "

"You needn't bother yourself any further, Potter," said Snape icily. "I was not inviting a response. However," Snape tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. "I believe you do deserve some sort of explanation."

Harry didn't answer this time but continued to look at Snape.

Snape's lips twitched and there again was that hideous attempt at a smile. "As you well know, Potter, I have, at times, been somewhat – " Snape paused, "curt with you."

Harry opened his mouth in astonishment. Snape had treated him like something less than vermin for the past five years.

"It was for your own good, you understand," Snape added quickly. "I wanted to treat you like any other boy, not as a famous celebrity who was above the rules. I daresay you wouldn't have understood this when you were younger but now, perhaps, you can begin to see the point."

Harry did not respond but continued to stare at Snape suspiciously.

"Since I am acting headmaster this year, I have, however, certain responsibilities," Snape said, enunciating the last word through clenched teeth. "I had to make it clear to Mr. Malfoy that he, too, was not above school rules. You, on the other hand…." Snape almost seemed to shudder, "appeared to be the victim in the case. However," and here Snape leaned forward and looked closely at Harry, seeming much more at ease. "That does not mean that I will turn a blind eye, Potter, when you and your friends, who are waiting patiently for you around the corridor this very minute" Snape seemed to enjoy the look of surprise on Harry's face, "are truly breaking school rules." Snape's expression hardened again. "I want to make that very clear."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, willing Snape to find some trace of defiance in his response.

Snape leaned back again. "That is all, Potter."

"Thank you, sir." Harry quickly got up and walked in the direction of the door.

"Oh and Potter," said Snape, causing Harry to look back. "I trust you understand the danger you are facing this year. In the absence of Professor Dumbledore, should you come across anything that, shall we say, disturbs you," Snape chose this word with what seemed like great reluctance, "I hope that you avoid taking matters into your own hands this time and inform me at once." Snape folded his arms.

"Of course, sir," said Harry bluntly and turned to leave, thinking to himself that this was the last thing he would do.

Harry walked out of Snape's office and rounded the corner to where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"It's all right." He exhaled deeply. "I can't figure him out though."

The last of Harry's words came out very quietly as he suddenly looked properly at his two friends. Ron's face was flushed red and his arms were folded. There was an unreadable expression on his face that looked like a mix of anger and guilt. Hermione seemed to be taking nervous breaths and looked generally miserable. Harry did not know what had happened while he had been talking to Snape but he guessed this was not the time to ask.

* * *

Hermione didn't tell Ron, at least not right away. She continued to stand there nervously. Ron could swear that the wizard puffs he had eaten for breakfast were performing enchanted acrobatics in his stomach. This final hesitation was killing him but it seemed to be killing Hermione as well.

But when Hermione finally spoke, Ron discovered that she did not say anything he might have expected.

"I – I – well, I did really want to wait to tell you until Harry was here."

"What?"

Hermione took a step backwards. "Well, you know," she continued tentatively. "I mean, the night we were talking in Dumbledore's office, well, I thought Harry was dead and so, well, but now, he's not and so – "

"What the hell does this have to do with Harry?"

Ron's sudden release of pent up frustration took both he and Hermione by surprise. Hermione took a much larger step backward and her face went red. She suddenly looked very vulnerable again, just as she had on the night they had thought Harry was dead. Ron had wanted to see this face again but not now, not because he had exploded at her.

"Hermione, I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean – " Ron started to walk toward Hermione and she remained rigid to the spot. Ron had a sudden, unusual urge to grab her into his arms but instead he stopped centimeters from her face. As he looked at Hermione, he could see that his apology had come too late. He watched in sadness as her defenses went up and her expression began to harden.

"If you can't wait," she snapped. "I suppose I can tell you now. I – I don't want be an auror."

"What?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione defensively. "I know we've talked about it off and on ever since Mad-Eye Moody and our fourth year but I just, I don't think it's right for me. I've decided to become a teacher. I'm going to teach Arithmancy and History of Magic to those who really need it – the house elves and then after a few years, I'm going to set up my own charity to help house elves get decent food, clothing, and education about their own history. I expect you think it's all stupid but there – I thought you ought to know."

Ron's eyes narrowed. In truth he did think it was stupid, but that was not at all what was on his mind at the moment.

"I didn't think you were going to be an auror, anyway," he said. "I thought you'd already said that to Harry and me last year."

Hermione looked very nervous again.

"W – well, I said I was considering it, but I hadn't made up my mind yet, and now I have and I thought you had a right to know."

Ron continued to stare at Hermione.

"Is that really what you were going to tell me, Hermione? Was that really so difficult to say?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione defensively. "It was. It was on my mind all summer and I knew it was going to bother me until I said it and now I have." She glared back up at Ron, daring him to contradict her. "Why?" she demanded suddenly. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"I – I don't know," replied Ron, still looking at her funnily. "It just seemed like something more serious, that's all."

Ron wanted to say that it had seemed like something more personal but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

"You don't think this is serious?" Hermione demanded again. She tried to look affronted but Ron could not help but think that she mostly just looked scared and he still was not sure why.

"I don't know," he muttered thoughtfully.

They turned away from each other then. Several long minutes passed before Harry finally emerged from Snape's office.

* * *

Hermione and Ron did not speak to each other during lunch. Harry told them what had happened between him and Snape but though the three of them were sitting together, Ron and Hermione never actually reacted to anything the other said as if they were both having individual conversations with Harry. Harry could see that they had had some sort of argument but he was too preoccupied with his own concerns to bother to get involved for as soon as they had sat down to start, he was approached by Madame Hooch, who asked if she could meet with him that afternoon.

Finally, following lunch, Hermione disappeared to Muggle Studies and Ron to Divination. Most of the younger students had class this hour. As a result, Harry found himself alone on one of the many winding corridors that led from Gryffindor Tower to Madame Hooch's new office in the back wing of the castle. Clutching both his new Firebolt II which she had asked him to show her and the bag which contained his parchment and quill for notes during what he hoped would be an important meeting, Harry found his progress particularly cumbersome. It didn't help that he could not restrain his eagerness in getting to the meeting and finally hearing whether what he had suspected Dumbledore had said to him in his office the night he had arrived was really true.

Because of this, he did not notice when something suddenly hit him hard into the wall, sending his broomstick and bag flying.

Harry looked around, wondering if Malfoy was attempting some kind of revenge, but quickly saw Peeves chuckling merrily, brandishing a long stick with a net at the end.

"It's a Muggle sport," said Peeves gleefully, eager to explain. "It's very violent. And look, I caught the Gryffindor seeker, the famous seeker, the not-yet-dead seeker. Oh, we'll have so much fun together, Potter, when you're a ghost!"

Harry cursed himself for shivering as Peeves ran off down the corridor cackling, turning back every now and then like a small child to see if Harry was chasing him.

Harry sighed and swore loudly when he found that his bag had split open. He gingerly tried to replace the contents when he became aware of a sudden flash of wand light behind him. The contents of his bag quickly rearranged themselves in neat order and the hole re-sealed itself. A voice behind Harry suddenly said:

"I've often thought of having Peeves expelled but then it's always good to have someone around who keeps one on one's toes."

Harry froze. He knew that voice. But it couldn't be.

Slowly, as if he feared that any sudden movement would make the owner of the voice disappear, he turned his head around and found himself looking into the azure eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor," Harry exclaimed in amazement. "But – but what are you doing here?"

Dumbledore put a finger to his lips. "Not so loud, Harry. If everyone knew I was here, I fear I'd never be able to leave again and I've only returned for a few short errands and to make sure that everything is in order." Dumbledore fixed Harry with a scrutinizing gaze.

Harry grinned broadly as an ocean of calm seemed to sweep over him. Though nothing else may have changed, it was reassuring to know that Dumbledore had returned – that he could return, that, perhaps, as he had said, he wasn't really all that far away.

Dumbledore seemed to smile at the look on Harry's face. "I see you have your new broomstick in hand."

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said suddenly.

"Fine," replied Dumbledore. "I have sent him on a special mission. And I will return to my own soon. I trust everything is in order with Headmaster Snape."

Harry cringed for a brief moment at the title but then nodded. He recalled Snape's behavior on the Quidditch pitch and his talk with the headmaster that morning. It was now obvious to Harry that Dumbledore had talked to Snape before he had left, and that somehow, as awful as it was to Snape, he had been finally forced to improve his behavior toward Harry – and Malfoy - even when Dumbledore was not around. This was indeed excellent news.

"Good." Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Then if there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

Dumbledore moved with surprising speed away from Harry and around the corner into the adjacent corridor. Harry remained standing for a few moments, a smile still fixed on his face, and then for reasons he himself was not quite sure, went back and turned the corner himself to watch Dumbledore's retreat.

But he was already gone.

* * *

Sometime that evening, Draco Malfoy rubbed furiously at an obstinate blemish on the trophy awarded to Slytherin house for their victory in the 1874 inter-house Quidditch cup. He then put down the crude cloth he had been given and sighed, massaging his cold legs for what seemed like the thousandth time. Looking around furtively, he put his right hand in the pocket of his robes. He was about to draw out his wand when he heard footsteps approaching. The door to the cold, dark Potions classroom swung open and the acting headmaster glided in like a bat.

Malfoy quickly replaced his hand and forced himself to continue to look down at the trophy. He suddenly felt a rush of anger warm his body and rise to the top of his head. He was determined not to look up and give Snape the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort.

Whatever it was he had done, thought Malfoy, it had certainly not justified the punishment he was getting. If Snape had been displeased with him – and the former Potions master and head of Slytherin house had never shown him this before – he could have punished him quietly, but to humiliate him in front of Potter, Weasley, and that foul-smelling mudblood Granger was an insult to Malfoy's dignity and to that of the house Snape was supposed to lead. Malfoy felt deeply betrayed. Ever since the Dark Lord had returned, Malfoy had defended Snape against those like his father who had called him a traitor. Malfoy had thought he had known his teacher much better than that; he had believed that Snape was merely biding his time, that when the moment was right, he would return to Voldemort and deliver Potter's head to him on a platter. But after today, he wondered whether his father might have been right after all.

Snape's soft footsteps approached the table where Malfoy was working.

"What do you want?" Malfoy surprised himself at the rashness to which his anger was leading him.

"You should have finished that trophy some while ago."

"If I could use magic – "

"I'm afraid not," was the flat reply.

Malfoy didn't answer. He continued to rub the obstinate blemish with the remains of the cloth. After a moment, Malfoy became aware that Snape wasn't moving; he just continued to stand right in front of him. But Malfoy was determined not to let himself be intimidated like some common Gryffindor. He refused to look up.

"You understand, of course," said Snape finally, "that I have certain responsibilities now."

Malfoy continued to ignore him.

"It would not do to appear too… prejudiced."

Malfoy scrubbed at the spot with vigor.

Suddenly Snape caught hold of his wrist. Malfoy finally looked up and found Snape staring down into his eyes, his own unusually large and bright.

"You are no longer a child, Mr. Malfoy, unless you insist to be treated like one. There is more at stake now than house points. And we could have so much in common, you and I."

* * *

After his visit from Dumbledore, Harry felt he was suddenly relieved from a crushing weight. He felt what only a few days before he would have thought impossible, that he was able to slip into a routine, that he was even able at times to concentrate, that safe in the Hogwarts castle surrounded by his friends, there were times that he almost forgot about the danger he was in were he ever to leave the castle walls. Snape had barely said at word to him since the day they had met in his office. Occasionally they would pass in the corridors and Snape would manage a ghost of a nod as if acknowledging Harry was the most painful thing he had ever done. Harry felt sure that he had been forced to act this way because of Dumbledore.

But best of all was the news he had been given by Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall who had been waiting at the meeting in Hooch's office when he'd arrived. He, Harry, was not only back on the Gryffindor Quidditch team – with the graduation of Angelina the previous term, he was to be its new captain. He had nearly tripped over his own new broomstick on the way out, his mind filled with plans and strategies. Tryouts came and both Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall gave Harry a great deal of leeway in selecting his own team. Harry decided to keep Kirke and Sloper on as beaters, despite their rather inauspicious beginning, given their improved performance in the previous year's final. And Ron was still keeper, of course. Harry could not help but think he seemed more comfortable in practice now that Fred and George were gone. He held tryouts for the two vacant chaser positions left by the graduation of Angelina and Alicia Spinnet. One of them was taken by Ginny, who had performed well the previous year as Seeker. Harry still felt she needed a bit of practice but he had chosen her because he felt that she was already a rightful member of the team and that the seeker position could have been hers, though everyone simply assumed that she would give it right back to Harry.

Harry surprised a great many people (but not his own teammates) when he selected Arabella Wycliffe to join Ginny and Katie Bell as the youngest chaser in fifty-nine years. At first, the news, which soon spread around the castle, had been greeted with disbelief: the idea that this short, nervous first-year could handle herself in the rough world of Quidditch was seen as somewhat of a joke. But Harry and his teammates knew that Arabella's detractors had never seen her fly. Gliding effortlessly on a broomstick identical to Harry's, Arabella ducked and weaved like a hummingbird through her much larger opponents. Harry kept Arabella as a secret weapon, letting her practice together with the team only just before their first game. It was not unlike the strategy Oliver Wood had used those many years ago when he had first trained Harry as the youngest Gryffindor seeker in a century. In their first game against Hufflepuff, Arabella scored four goals in the first ten minutes. Then, before the stunned Hufflepuff team had time to react, Harry dived diagonally across the field and grabbed the golden snitch from where it had been hovering near the bottom of the Gryffindor goal post for the shutout victory.

It was at the end of the second week of the term that a substitute Potions master had arrived and their course load had finally filled out. There was much rumor and speculation about who the new Potions master would be: Neville was convinced it would be Snape's long lost brother or cousin and spent much time laying out the evidence in support of this belief to anyone who would listen. With each of Neville's new accounts, the imagined relative grew ever more sinister.

When the real Potions master finally arrived, however, it was obvious that she bore no relation to Snape. A plump witch with a rosy complexion who reminded Harry a little of Mrs. Weasley, Professor Dibble soon proved to be as different in manner to Professor Snape as she was in appearance. She greeted the class on the first day with a broad smile and fussed like a mother hen that the school must not be feeding its students so well to have created such an unusually quiet class. It was apparent that no one had informed her that the Gryffindors had been used to cowering in fear in the very same dungeon during the malevolent reign of her predecessor.

Professor Dibble's first lesson was very short and consisted mostly of her sorting out a cluster of untidy parchments to determine who was in the class and what they had covered. No homework was assigned and Ron speculated that the class would be a pushover, much to Hermione's disapproval.

Their sense of relief continued until the second day of class. A much more relaxed group of Gryffindors (who were taking their N.E.W.T. Potions without the Slytherins as they had been put in a later group with the Hufflepuffs) gathered in the dungeon to await their new lesson. Ten minutes passed before Professor Dibble showed and when she did the students were mildly horrified to find that the front of her robes and her face was covered with black soot and that the front half of the long hat that she wore had been burned off. Hermione had immediately inquired after Professor Dibble's health and received a cheerfully flippant response that a minor accident had occurred during the third years' lesson the previous hour. The relatively relaxed atmosphere that had prevailed in the Potions classroom for one short day started to erode and the Gryffindors found themselves exchanging apprehensive glances. Professor Dibble then started a lesson about a new potion that could cure any bad case of nerves. Hermione noticed Ron and Harry start to take unusual interest and she, too, felt curious. So intent was the class on Professor Dibble's explanation that they did not notice what had happened to the ingredients she had placed into the cauldron in front of her. As she finished the explanation with a satisfied smile and invited the class to begin the procedure themselves, Dibble chanced to look into the bowl and let out a sudden cry of surprise.

"Oh," she said, frowning. "Why, what happened to the potion?"

There was almost immediately a loud scream. Neville, who had moved to the front row so that he could observe Dibble mix this obviously important potion more carefully, suddenly grabbed his foot and began howling. Neville's cries were soon followed by shouts of alarm from other students and the class and its instructor suddenly noticed that the obviously corrosive potion was seeping out onto the floor in front of Dibble's desk and had now reached the first row. There was a pushing and shoving of chairs as the students in the first three rows quickly grabbed their belongings and ran toward the back of the classroom. Dibble just stared at the cauldron in front of her which now featured a large gaping hole where there had previously been a bottom. The size of the hole exactly matched the one in the center of Dibble's desk. A large hole had also found its way into what now remained of Neville's right shoe.

Dibble looked back and forth from the cauldron to her notes, frowning as she did so. "Oh," she finally said, and gave the class an ingratiating smile. "Forgot to add the four-leaved clovers. An easy mistake to make if you're in a bit of a rush."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione just stared at each other.

Harry soon found, however, that even Professor Dibble's nerve wracking lessons did not alter his strange new peace. After his first Quidditch match and the congratulations that seemed to follow Harry around, Voldemort seemed like a distant nightmare. But as soon as Harry began to feel comfortable with himself and his friends, something would happen to remind him of Sirius: whether it was the flash of the insignia on a teammate's Firebolt, a passing mention of Fred and George and the Marauder's Map, or a glance at the Whomping Willow as they went for tea at Hagrid's, Harry found that his godfather and his untimely death was never far from Harry's mind. There were days on the Quidditch pitch when Harry was sure that he could see Sirius, transfigured as a black shaggy dog, still watching him from the top of the stands but then he remembered that Sirius would not ever be returning to watch Harry play Quidditch. Harry himself had made sure of that.

There were times when Harry knew that his teammates could see that he was distracted and, he reflected one day, they probably knew why. But they respected him far too much to ever mention anything about it. There were times when Harry felt almost on the point of opening up his feelings to Ron and Hermione but whenever he thought of doing so, something would make him stop. He had tried to keep his anger inside but, although they passed each day together in companionable fashion, Harry couldn't help but sense there was still a distance between them, especially when the topic of conversations grew more serious. And Hermione and Ron now seemed to row more than ever despite Harry's best attempts to create harmony between them.

As October rolled around and the first Hogsmeade weekend drew near, Harry was forced to remember the danger he was in should he ever leave the castle. He was certain that he would not be allowed to go to Hogsmeade and this put him once again in a very despondent mood. He also noticed that Ron and Hermione failed to make any mention of the weekend and threw furtive looks at his housemates whenever they started discussing their plans in front of him.

At breakfast on the Monday morning before the Hogsmeade weekend, however, Hedwig arrived with a letter in her beak. Harry opened the letter with mild curiosity wondering who could possibly be writing to him this time. It turned out that while the letter was not enchanted to transfigure into the ghostly face of the acting headmaster, it was he who had sent the letter just the same.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As you are well aware, it is not safe for you to travel far from the Hogwarts grounds at this time. However, in conferring with Professor Dumbledore, who has made significant progress in securing your safety, I have decided to grant you permission to participate in the Hogsmeade excursion this weekend if you so wish. Based on your past disregard for those trying to protect you, it is obvious that you will attempt to leave the castle in any case, and I, for one, would feel much safer knowing your exact whereabouts. Please confine your activities to the village itself and remain accompanied by others and in plain sight of the public at all times.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape  
Acting Headmaster

Harry read the letter three times in disbelief, before handing it to Ron who looked it over.

"Excellent, Harry." He beamed. "I can't wait to go to Honeydukes. I'm all out of Fizzing Whizzbees!"

Hermione grabbed the letter from Ron's hand and read it, her eyebrows arching up in surprise.

"This is wonderful news, Harry," she said carefully, "but are you really sure it's safe?"

Ron crossed his arms and stared at Hermione.

"Dumbledore says it's safe so it must be, right?"

"I don't know, Ron." Hermione frowned. "Maybe there's something he's overlooked."

"I promise I'll only stay where there are lots of people, Hermione, just like the letter said. The Death Eaters wouldn't dare to strike. And as Ron said, Dumbledore knows what he's doing and this year - "

" – I'm going to listen to Dumbledore," finished Ron, flashing a weak smile as Harry stared stonily in his direction.

Hermione continued to frown. "I suppose."

* * *

Later that same night, Lord Voldemort stood once again alone in the dark forest. What unicorns he had not slain had fled, perhaps never to return. They were not alone. Every creature from owls to crickets to vampire bats had flown in fright. Even the trees in the small circle where Voldemort stood seem to sway away from him in the swirling wind.

The creatures need not have been so concerned, however, for on this night, Voldemort would gain the self-possession to control his hunger. He was not here to indulge himself although he reflected for a moment, almost philosophically, on how the dangerous fulfillment of his appetites had created a silent space where Voldemort could carry out one of the most important stages of his plan to capture and kill Harry Potter. The creatures feared the hot rage of his appetites just as the Death Eaters feared the cool menace of his wrath.

Voldemort stood and folded his arms as he had the night he had stood outside the Burrow. He was waiting for something. He knew that he would wait as long as it was necessary.

But he did not have to wait for long. A thin beam of moonlight that had moments before shone on empty earth now reflected off the dark robes of Lord Voldemort's most faithful Death Eater. Voldemort felt his lips curl into a smile as he watched the Death Eater look down at his arms. Then, as always in the presence of the Dark Lord but never in front of any other, the Death Eater rolled up the sleeves of his robes, his pale white skin now shining as brightly in the moonlight as the silvery fur of the slain unicorn. Bright that was but for one spot – the Dark Mark – which pulsed as the Death Eater looked down on it.

The Death Eater approached Voldemort, not with the hurried, nervous footsteps of many of the Dark Lord's other servants but with slow, measured and patient strides.

"You have news," said Voldemort, almost softly. He found it difficult to conceal his admiration for the Death Eater's comportment.

"Potter has been told that he can visit Hogsmeade with his friends this weekend."

"And he will go? Just like that? So easily?"

The Death Eater broke into a chilling smile. "He would perhaps have gone in any case. But this way we can be sure. He trusts his protectors. He does not believe they would betray him. Not now."

"Even you?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"Even me."

Voldemort suddenly broke into a high cackling laughter. "This trust of Dumbledore's spreads like a contagion among the weak. Though I admit from what I have learned of him, I would have thought Potter capable of more cunning. He must be so desperate to believe."

"It appeals to his vanity – and his guilt."

"You are as ever an excellent judge of character."

The Death Eater paused for a moment. "You do not trust then?"

Voldemort closed his eyes and smiled as if smelling a rare wine. "How I miss the stimulation of a challenge when you are gone. I tire so easily of all the sycophants that surround me. You want to know, perhaps, whether I trust you?" Voldemort smiled slightly as he sensed the Death Eater stiffen ever so slightly. "No, I do not. I do not trust anyone. Trust is for the weak. I rely on you. Perhaps more than I rely on anyone. Why? Because you are different from the others. They serve me because they fear me or perhaps because they believe that through their loyalty to me they can settle their own petty grudges. Only you appreciate the subtle science of power."

"Your other Death Eaters believe that I am a traitor."

Voldemort waved his wand dismissively. "Only because I have told them so. And because they do not understand you. They do not appreciate the art of patience and cunning. I do." Voldemort smiled again for a moment, then grew serious. "But we should return to the matters at hand. The Weasley girl. She will go with Potter?"

"Of course, I cannot be sure. She has no reason not to. Unlike Potter, she appears to have no sense she is in danger."

Voldemort nodded, half to himself. "She will stay with him, I think, or at least try. In any case, it will be our little test."

The Death Eater paused again. "My Lord."

Voldemort looked up to face him again. "You have a suggestion, I think."

"I do. If Weasley accompanies Potter, would it not be best to strike now, while he is exposed, when no one is expecting it?"

Voldemort regarded the Death Eater curiously for a moment. "Do not tell me that your patience is starting to wane, not now, when we are so near? We are still too vulnerable. This weekend is but a piece of a larger puzzle. One that, when put together, will place us at the very heart of the wizarding world while the Ministry still fusses over itself and the Order is powerless. Surely such a beautiful victory is worth waiting for?"

"Indeed, my lord."

"I thought you would see it that way. Now try your best to ensure that Potter and Weasley go on their little trip together." Voldemort smiled wickedly. "And our plan will be that much nearer to completion."

Severus Snape smiled a low, haunting smile, then turned away from Voldemort and disapparated.


	8. Synchronis Totalis

Chapter 8

Synchronis Totalis

The Wednesday before the Hogsmeade weekend saw a rather unusual Defense Against the Dark Arts class that, at the time, seemed more comical than serious but in retrospect was very significant. Professor Nevins began by announcing that he would introduce the class to a tricky spell that students normally did not learn until their seventh year, if that, but that he felt confident the sixth years could master. Without first telling the class what the new spell was and what it would do, Nevins lined up the Gryffindors and Slytherins into two rows facing each other. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been sitting together as usual and Ron and Hermione had ended up standing across from one another while Harry was paired up with Seamus. The odd one out was Dean, whom Professor Nevins moved to the front of the class as a "volunteer."

Once the rows had sorted themselves out, Nevins looked at some of the pairings and allowed himself a toothy smirk. It was clear he was enjoying some kind of private joke at everyone else's expense. He walked back to the front of the classroom and turned to face Dean. He drew out his wand and became serious.

"Now, if everyone could please join me in taking out their wands. This spell has two parts, both of which must be put into action very rapidly for it to work. One of the pair - it does not matter which one - must first point his wand at his - or her - partner - and enunciate, please - say Synchronis Totalis. A curious effect will then occur." Nevins smiled again. "The two wizards or witches casting the spell will experience a magic link. During this link, the consciousness of the two partners will be shared. Then - "

"E - Excuse me, Professor." Neville was shaking like a leaf. "Do you mean that we'll be able to read each other's thoughts?"

Nevins smiled, rather cruelly, Harry thought. "Very good, Mr. Longbottom, yes."

A low murmur rose like a ripple around the classroom. Parvati and Lavender started giggling furiously.

"You needn't worry," Nevins added as Neville looked on the point of collapse. "At your present level, I doubt the effect will last more than a few seconds, nor will your partner be able to penetrate much further than your surface thoughts. If your private thoughts embarrass you, then you only need to force yourself to concentrate on something mundane for a few seconds until the spell wears off."

The class continued to murmur and fidget. Harry looked over at Seamus who was chuckling. He decided he must be very careful to keep any thoughts of the prophecy out of his mind. Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug on his elbow. He looked around to see Ron staring at him anxiously.

"Harry," he squeaked. "Couldn't you switch with me? I mean, you and Hermione could - "

"No. Why? What's the matter?"

"Please, Harry."

Harry was suddenly aware that he and Ron were the only ones talking. Nevins folded his arms and walked over. "Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron shook his head.

"Good. As interesting as all this might seem to you all, it is the second stage of the spell that makes it useful." Nevins then spoke loudly and slowly so that the class would be sure to catch the point. "After you have cast the initial spell and while the two partners are linked, the effects of any subsequent spell they cast against each other will be experienced by both."

Ron frowned for a moment. "What good does that do?"

There were a few gasps but Harry and Hermione did not react. They knew by now that Ron had formed a very strange relationship with Professor Nevins on that first day of class and the professor seemed especially pleased when Ron provided the role of a foil in his lessons. Ron still tried to appear offended but Harry sensed his indignation was not genuine. Both he and Nevins seemed to be enjoying an unusual private game.

"Pardon me, Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, I mean, if you want to curse someone, just curse them. If you get all wound up together, then you'll curse yourself as well, won't you?"

Nevins scowled. "I do not want to do all your thinking for you, Mr. Weasley, but please promise me that I'll be the first person you tell when you discover how useful this spell really is."

"All right." Ron folded his arms in mock defiance.

"Good." Nevins turned his attention back to the rest of the class. "Now, I will begin by demonstrating with Mr. Thomas." He walked over to Dean who looked slightly nervous. Nevins took out his wand and pointed it at the boy.

"Synchronis Totalis."

A flash of blue light left Nevins' wand and hit Dean squarely in the chest. At first it seemed that nothing had happened but then a blue flash bounced back off of Dean like a ball in a squash court and hit Nevins.

Nevins smiled and Dean looked confused.

"It seems Mr. Thomas gives a generous amount of thought to West Ham football."

There were a few giggles in response.

"And now." Nevins raised his wand again. "Lumos Reformo."

Another flash of wand light quickly left Nevins' wand and zigzagged back and forth between him and Dean. Both Nevins and Dean then glowed briefly like a negative image before returning to normal.

"And there you have it." Nevins put down his wand. "Now, I will give everyone else a chance. Please use the same two spells."

The first pair was Millicent Bulstrode and Crabbe. On establishing the link, they both broke into hoarsey Slytherin laughter. Harry wondered that there was anything in Crabbe's head at all. The next few pairs were fairly uneventful until Draco Malfoy was matched up with Pansy Parkinson. Pansy looked a little nervous while Malfoy had a snide calculating curl to his lips. They completed the link and the curse. After their appearances had returned to normal, Pansy looked at Malfoy in astonishment and suddenly broke into a sobbing fit. Malfoy merely continued to stare back at her, unperturbed.

The Gryffindors, who mostly segregated themselves in their classes with the Slytherins, ended up being the last to go. Harry was constantly aware of Ron shifting back and forth next to him and was tempted to tell him to keep still. The first pairing was Neville and Luna. From the look on Neville's face, Harry had the impression he had partnered with Luna because he had been unable to find anyone else. Luna, who was wearing a lime green pointed hat above her Ravenclaw robes, which she had enchanted to make faces, had an odd-looking smile on her face, however, but then Harry supposed that this was how she often looked.

Harry suddenly became aware that Neville was even whiter than usual and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Luna continued to smile and then started to stare at him vacantly. This seemed to make things even worse: Neville started moving back and forth on his feet like Ron and seemed to visibly tremble.

When Neville kept his wand at his side rigidly, Luna calmly took hers out from its customary position behind her ear and said:

"Synchronis Totalis."

Neville lifted up his hands to protect himself but the beam quickly bounced off his chest and reverberated back to Luna.

Neville's wand dropped to the floor with a clatter. He put his hands over his mouth and stared back at Luna in shock.

Luna continued to smile vacantly back at Neville while the hat on her head settled into a reproving grimace.

"Why, Neville," she finally said. "I'm not sure that anyone has ever pictured me in an orange and yellow striped bikini before, at least not quite that shade."

"Miss Lovegood," Nevins interrupted. "We are not interested in what Mr. Longbottom is thinking. We are waiting patiently for one of you to complete the spell."

But Neville had heard enough. His hands moved from his face to his stomach and he quickly ran out of the room amidst the hysterical laughter of the remaining students.

Luna and Neville's ill-fated experiment in thought sharing, while earning the amusement of the other students in the class, had seriously unnerved those who had yet to take part. Nevins declined to comment on Neville's departure and Lavender and Parvati were next followed by Harry and Seamus. With a devilish smile on his face, Seamus decided to cast a "Riddiculo Tikkilo" spell instead of the "Lumos Reformo." Both Harry and Seamus burst into giggles and Seamus earned a mild reprisal from Nevins but Harry was secretly pleased at him for breaking the tension.

A quick sideways glance to Ron, however, told Harry that it had not been enough. While everyone else was giggling at Seamus' prank, Ron continued to stand rigid, his brows furrowed in nervous concentration as he pointed an unsteady wand at Hermione. Harry could see that his other best friend did not look much better. Hermione was biting her lip and twirling her wand nervously in her hand which Harry could see from the light of the window behind her was glistening with sweat. What was going on?

Harry finally became aware that it was now Hermione and Ron's turn but his two friends continued to stand facing each other, neither moving to begin the spell.

"Well, will one of you please start?" said Nevins impatiently. "I would hate to have to keep anyone into lunch time."

Without wavering in the slightest, Hermione and Ron straightened their wands and before the other realized what was happening, had charmed each other in unison. Harry gasped as light flew out of both Hermione and Ron's wands and zigzagged back and forth four times. He could sense every muscle in their bodies contracted in tension before Hermione quickly cried out "Lumos Reformo." Both Ron and Hermione glowed negative for a moment, then put their wands down.

As they had been the last to go, Nevins launched into some further explanations about the properties of the Synchronis Totalis spell. Harry could see Ron and Hermione still standing there staring at each other, rigid with concentration, but ignoring whatever it was that Nevins was saying.

The class packed up relatively quickly and moved out into the corridor. There were murmurs and giggles which soon blended into a noisy rush of humanity as students from other lessons filed out of their classrooms and made their way toward lunch. Neville had emerged from the bathroom, still looking pale, and was deep in animated conversation with Dean and Seamus when Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed them.

"It was awful," Neville was saying, deadly serious. "The more I tried to get it out of my head, the more I couldn't."

Harry noticed that Dean and Seamus were laughing so hard tears were rolling down their cheeks.

He turned back to look at Ron and Hermione who were paying no attention to Neville's conversation. They were both still staring straight ahead, appearing to concentrate hard lest some remnants of their link remain. Harry was now sure that, as strange as it seemed, both of his best friends had something to hide from each other - and from him, but he did not know for the life of him what it was.

Snape's eyebrows contracted in concentration as he moved stealthily behind the Granger girl and the Weasley girl who were having some kind of conversation. He was still trying to think of some way to insert himself into their plans for the weekend without arousing suspicion and could not imagine how he was going to do so. But first he would listen. They had not heard him approach, of course; no one ever did.

"You still haven't told him, have you?" Granger was saying.

The Weasley girl shook her head. "It seems easier to think about now than before but when I think about going up to him and saying something - " She threw up her arms in frustration. "And there always seem to be other people around," she added.

"Why don't you come with us to Hogsmeade?" Granger was saying. "You can help me pick out some things from Zonko's and then Ron and I will slip off together and you can spend some time alone with Harry."

The Weasley girl seemed to hesitate for a moment and then nodded.

Snape quickly moved away before either of them noticed he was in earshot and allowed himself a relieved smile. It had all been too easy.

* * *

That same night, a restless Ginny Weasley was having another nightmare. This nightmare seemed somehow normal compared to her strangely intense dreams of the summer. In this dream, she had been sitting next to Harry at The Three Broomsticks and had asked him to go to the Guy Fawkes ball. Instead of responding, however, he had backed away from her, his lips curling up grotesquely.

"So, that was your game, Weasley?" he had accused her. "Pretend to be over me so you can get closer and then take advantage of my grief to ask me to the dance! You disgust me!"

Harry had then moved away from her quickly and gone to whisper to Ron and Hermione, who were sitting at a nearby table. On hearing the news, they both got up and recoiled as if they had just eaten something rancid. Amanda and Catherine had then burst in and walked over to her, shaking their heads in disbelief. Soon everyone in the Three Broomsticks had moved away from Ginny like she carried a plague. Finally, she just sat all alone in the empty pub.

It was at that point, when her dream had reached its disturbing conclusion, that Ginny woke up and decided to pour herself a glass of water and move to the common room. Whispering to herself over and over again like a mantra that she was not some pathetically shy little girl anymore, she picked up her worn copy of Not Just Mail Machines: Caring for Magical Owls and moved down into the Gryffindor common room. She sat on a high backed chair, moved it close to the fire, and began reading. She shuddered slightly from the chill of the dream and the cold of the autumn evening. She moved her chair so that it was facing the fire and sank down lower, letting its warmth slowly caress her body. She imagined that the flames could make the cold stares of the haunting phantoms in her dream slowly melt away.

* * *

That same night, after a particularly tiring day, Harry quickly sunk into an exhausted sleep. He hoped as he had hoped for as long as he could remember now that he would not dream for his dreams were rarely pleasant. But on this night, he would not get his wish.

In this dream, he was strangely not himself. It was as if he was watching a film or seeing events through another person's eyes. The central character in the dream seemed to be Sirius. He was much younger and healthier than Harry had remembered him but he still seemed extremely disturbed. Harry suddenly had the impression he was seeing the first of many expressions of shock and bewilderment that by the time Harry had known Sirius, had already etched lines in his face.

Sirius was running. It was dark but a soft ghostly orange light seemed to shine brightly on his face where Harry could read his expression. Sirius ran faster and faster and it suddenly seemed to Harry as though he was holding a camera and Sirius had rushed right past it for now he could see his back as he ran toward the source of the light.

And then Harry could also see that Sirius was running toward a house on fire, a house which had already fallen over onto the remains of its foundations. Someone nearby yelled at Sirius to stay back from the flames and Harry became aware that there were about a half a dozen witches and wizards gathered in black robes in front of the house trying to cast charms to put out the flames. But Sirius ignored them and continued to rush on into the burning house.

Harry found Sirius moving away from him so he rushed on to follow. He seemed to glide rather than walk over the falling debris in front of the house, just like he was a camera on wheels rather than a person. No one seemed to show him any reaction and he past through several layers of flames without feeling them scorch his body.

Sirius was obviously feeling the heat and smoke, however. His face grew blackened and he began to cough. Sweat poured down his brow and he shook off a few tongues of flame that had started to catch at the bottom of his cloak. Yet he continued to push on further into the house, running even faster.

Then Harry heard something cry out, something inside the house. Sirius must have heard it, too, because he stopped running and his head started to dart back and forth to locate its source. Finally, Harry followed Sirius as he reached to the ground and picked up a small bundle of something wrapped in blankets. The cries grew louder and Harry realized that this bundle was the source of the noise.

"Harry!" cried Sirius.

"I'm right here!" Harry tried to say, although he found that, in the dream, he had no mouth through which to speak.

But Sirius was studying the small figure wrapped in blankets. And then Harry realized it was he that Sirius was holding as a baby. The burning house was his house - his parents' house. And Sirius had come to rescue him.

Sirius turned around and started to run out of the house, the blanket-covered bundle in his arms, but then suddenly stopped to look at the baby and frowned.

Harry moved closer and saw the blankets start to shift by themselves. Sirius continued to stop and stare at the bundle curiously. He showed no reaction as the charred remains of a wooden beam came crashing down beside him.

"Go, Sirius, go!" Harry tried to cry. "Go now or we'll both be killed!"

But Sirius still did not move. The blankets began to shift more vigorously as the baby inside squirmed. A strange faraway look in his eyes, Sirius tried to adjust the blankets to make the baby more comfortable even as tongues of flame started to tickle the bottom of his robes. But then the blankets fell to the ground completely and the baby that had been laying inside sat up to face Sirius.

Harry tried to scream but no sound came out.

For it was not Harry who emerged from the blankets. It was not a baby at all. The thing which now sat in Sirius' arms looked exactly like the emaciated creature that had been Lord Voldemort before he was restored to full size by his servant Wormtail.

Harry watched, horrified, as Sirius began to smile and tickle the creature under its scaly chin.

"No!" Harry cried. "Sirius! Don't! It's not me. It's him. Leave him. Run. Get out, now!"

But Sirius continued to stare at the baby lovingly, oddly oblivious as it raised a slender wand which looked much too large for its tiny hand and pointed it at Sirius' face, gurgling grotesquely to itself, nearly choking on its own spittle. The green light from its wand struck Sirius between the eyes.

Sirius' face contorted in an expression of shock and surprise as he fell to the ground dead. But in the moment that he started to fall over, the scene around Harry changed and suddenly he was no longer inside the burning house. He was back in the Department of Mysteries and Sirius was falling not onto the burning floor but through the tattered black veil. Harry tried to reach out and stop him from falling through but he had no hands. All he could do was watch as Sirius disappeared again and the veil slowly fluttered and fell back into place.

And yet still somewhere behind him, Harry heard the thing that had been in the blankets silently chuckling to itself.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. He grabbed his glasses and moved over to the window to pour himself a glass of water. Harry didn't always remember his dreams but when he did, it was usually a bad sign and this dream still boiled in his waking thoughts in vivid detail. The baby was him, Harry decided. And Sirius had picked up out of that burning house the very child that would bring about his death.

On this revelation, Harry decided it was not yet time for him to return to sleep. Walking gingerly on his still aching body, he took out the now tattered Quidditch Through the Ages book that he kept under his four-poster bed and took it and the glass of water and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

He moved down into the common room. He could see that someone had left the high-backed chair pushed up against the fireplace. It was certainly a cool evening and Harry thought of taking the seat for himself. But the heat of the fire seemed harsh to Harry as he moved closer. It reminded him too much of the raw red scaly skin that had covered the thing which had once been Lord Voldemort and the malevolent fury that had shined in its snake-like eyes as it had shot down Sirius. Harry settled for a familiar seat next to the small table where he and Ron often played wizard chess.

Harry tried to read but it wasn't long before he realized he had looked at the same paragraph several times over. He put the book down with a sigh. Harry felt as if the relative calm he had built up over the past six weeks was beginning to crumble, having proved only as strong the precarious foundations onto which it had been placed.

Just then, the door to Gryffindor sixth-year boys' dormitory opened again and Ron stepped out. He gave a lazy yawn and walked down the stairs to join Harry at the table.

"All right, Harry?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Harry didn't answer right away.

"Harry?" asked Ron tentatively.

"I had a nightmare," said Harry flatly, not quite looking back at Ron.

"About You-Know-Who?"

"Sort of." Harry hesitated. "It was about Sirius," he mumbled. He looked up at Ron suddenly, as if seeing him properly for the first time. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, I - I've been awake for hours. I made it to sleep quite quickly this time but then I woke up again and I haven't been back to sleep since." Ron rubbed his eyes again. Harry noticed they were shot with lines as bright red as a fire engine. "It's the same nearly every night." He sighed.

"Maybe you should go to see Madam Pomfrey? I'm sure she can give you a sleeping draught."

Ron shook his head. "I don't think she has anything that can cure my problems." He frowned woefully.

Harry suddenly felt grateful to be talking about someone else's dilemmas. "Ron, what's wrong?" he asked insistently.

"You know, Harry," replied Ron, almost thoughtfully. "I - I'm not sure I can really bring myself to tell you. I mean, not because of you - we're best mates and everything - just because, well, if I told you, I'd be admitting it to myself and then it would just be more real and I'm still hoping it will go away. D - do you understand?" Ron looked up hopefully into Harry's eyes.

Harry shook his head. "Not really."

Ron sighed again. "I - If I tell anyone, it'll be you, all right?"

Harry nodded. "All right, Ron."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Tell me about your dream, then," Ron suggested, a little nervously.

Harry hesitated then looked away as he saw Ron's face twist horribly as if he was afraid Harry would lash out at him. He hated that face and he just wished there was some way he could make it go away.

"Harry," said Ron again in a small voice. "Look, mate, I don't understand what happened to you when Sirius died, all right, b - but maybe if you just told me about your dream, it would help you, you know."

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"Or - "

"I have to kill Voldemort," said Harry mechanically, staring at the floor. "That was the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. Either I kill him or he kills me. There is no other way."

There was a long chilling pause, then Harry slowly looked up at his best friend.

Ron was white as a sheet now, of course. Harry had known that he would be and that was why he hadn't told him until now. He couldn't bear the thought of his reaction. He had thought it would make things much, much worse. But now that he had actually told Ron, he wasn't sure whether he felt worse or better. He felt strangely numb as if he had been anaesthetized from the consequences of his own emotions.

"Bloody hell," Ron finally murmured. "I'm sorry, mate, I - "

"Don't be sorry," said Harry automatically.

Ron swallowed.

"A - are you really sure that's what it meant, though?"

Harry nodded.

"Dumbledore told me - in his office last spring. The prophecy was told to him by Trelawney. That was why he hired her."

"Look, mate," said Ron, the color slowly returning to his face. "Who cares what some stupid prophecy said? Just forget about it. I bet it's just rubbish, anyway. I'm surprised Dumbledore believed anything that old cow said."

Harry shook his head.

"No, Ron. It's not rubbish. I have to face him. I - "

Harry was abruptly cut off as he heard the portrait outside the Gryffindor common room suddenly swing aside. Harry and Ron waited to see who was coming in at this hour but there was no one there.

"Who is it?" asked Ron nervously. "Harry," he added in a sudden panic. "I think it must be You-Know-Who. Maybe he was the one who gave you your dream! He's found a way - "

"Relax, Ron," said Harry. "It's Hermione." Harry failed to notice that Ron's frightened expression hardly seemed to change at the news. "I gave her the invisibility cloak so that she could stay after hours at the library."

The folds of the invisibility cloak parted and the vision from Ron's nightmares looked back at them, unable to repress a slight smirk.

"Hermione," said Ron. "What are you doing staying out this late? We have classes tomorrow. You can't keep killing yourself!"

Hermione's smirk quickly disappeared. "I - I just have to get this done. There's only just over a week until the ball. It won't be like this every night." Hermione rubbed the sleep out of her left eye. "Anyway," she said, looking from Harry to Ron, "what are you two doing up?"

Ron exchanged an uneasy glance with Harry.

"Tell her," said Harry dully. "I don't think I could say it again."

Looking anxiously between Harry and Hermione, Ron explained about the prophecy and his advice to Harry to run away from Voldemort.

Hermione went just as white as Ron had done.

"Oh, Harry, that's awful!" she declared. "But that was a terrible thing you told him to do, Ron! Harry won't be able to forget about it and he shouldn't try!"

"You're the one who always says Divination is rubbish!"

"You just want Harry to keep things bottled up inside. Just like he always does. You just want him to avoid dealing with things."

Harry was about to add that he didn't think this was quite fair when Ron leapt to his own defense.

"So what's your idea, then? Recruit a bunch of house elves and storm the Death Eaters' camp on the advice of some loony old bat!"

"Obviously Harry has to prepare. But he can't just forget about - "

"Of course he should just forget about it!"

"But he's not going to anyway, Ron. And if you just tell him to do that, he's going to keep things bottled up again and he's not going to tell either of us anything anymore."

"Hello, I'm over here, you know." Harry waved his arms but neither of his two friends seemed to take any notice.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "This is all pretty rich coming from you."

Hermione stared back at him defiantly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well," Ron continued, a dangerous look in his eyes. "You're accusing Harry of keeping things to himself - "

"I wasn't accusing Harry of anything. You - "

" - and here you are sneaking into the library in the middle of the night, planning goddess knows what, rushing away from meals, not telling your friends anything."

"I don't think Hermione - " Harry started, but stopped as he saw Ron and Hermione staring at each other with daggers in their eyes, clearly no longer aware of his existence.

Hermione's clenched teeth were suddenly visible. "I don't what your problem is, Ronald Weasley. If you're so interested in the plan for the ball, why don't you just join S.P.E.W.? You can even help us. I just didn't think you were interested, that's all."

"You were right the first time, Hermione. I have absolutely no interest in what you are planning for the ball."

"You're doing a pretty good job of pretending you are."

The argument continued to go back and forth. Harry felt a throbbing headache start to pulse in his left temple. If Ron and Hermione thought they were helping him, they were very much mistaken. Harry was about to excuse himself and let his friends get on with it when he heard Ron say:

"- and I suppose it's normal for you to spend Defense Against the Dark Arts seeing if you can think up all the Hogwarts headmasters in order?"

"Well at least I'm not pathetic enough to amuse myself trying to remember all the different types of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans."

Harry suddenly realized that Ron and Hermione had stopped being angry at each other. While he had absolutely no idea what they had just said, his two best friends were suddenly staring at each other with a curious, almost frightened expression that Harry had never seen before. They immediately stopped talking and held the look for what seemed like quite some time. Then Hermione suddenly cleared her throat.

"Well, er, good night, Harry," she said, turning to him as if breaking out of a dream. "I hope we can talk about this more in the morning. I - I think I'd better go to bed now. I - I'm just too tired to stay up. Here's your cloak." She gave the invisibility cloak back to Harry and walked up to bed, a strangely clouded expression on her face.

Ron got up to leave as well. Harry said good night although he wasn't sure he heard Ron do the same. He watched Ron and Hermione walk up separate staircases to bed, both looking as if they had just been put into a trance. He was about to follow Ron when something made him stop and slump back on the sofa again.

No, this didn't help at all, Harry thought and sighed to himself.

Realizing he was still in no fit state to return to sleep, Harry picked up his book again and tried to read when he heard a sudden shuffling sound from somewhere just behind him. He quickly got to his feet and spun around, his wand held in his hand.

An untidy mass of long red hair emerged from the high-backed chair in front of the fireplace and Ginny Weasley walked slowly toward him.

Harry put down his wand and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, walking over to him. "I - I - I couldn't sleep. I was here reading a book by the fire and then you and Ron came down and started talking. I - I didn't mean to overhear and I'm sure you didn't want me to find out but it just didn't seem right for me to stop you from talking - and - oh, Harry, I - "

"I know," said Harry gloomily. "You're really sorry."

"No," said Ginny, her brown eyes full of surprise. "I - I thought it sounded like you still needed a friend."

Harry paused suddenly and looked back at Ginny, blinking. She was looking at him with a very odd expression on her face that Harry could not remember seeing before, well, not that was, since -

Ginny suddenly broke into his thoughts.

"I could go back upstairs if you - "

"No," said Harry, a little haltingly. "P - please."

He gestured for Ginny to sit down in the chair just in front of him.

There was a pause as neither seemed to know where to begin. Then Ginny's eyes suddenly filled with anger as she said:

"They're selfish. Both of them. They're both so wrapped up in their own stupid arguments that they don't have room to listen to others."

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, a little surprised, but suddenly happy to have found someone with whom to commiserate.

"You'd think they'd finally give it up after all these years. It's so childish!"

"You're telling me! I have to put up with it every bloody time we're together. It's just getting worse!"

"I don't know why they just can't admit that they love each other."

"What?"

"Let's not talk about them anymore. They're not worth it. Harry," Ginny looked up suddenly, not appearing to notice the horrified look on Harry's face. "Harry, what will you do - really - about the prophecy?"

"I - I've got to keep training, I suppose. But if I'm really going to face him, I don't think it will be for a very long time. I mean - I'm still learning, h - how can I face someone like him? I mean I - I've just been lucky he hasn't killed me before."

"That's what you think it was? Luck?"

"Well, yeah. But Dumbledore thinks I can face him, that I have to, if I just keep training and keep patient then - "

"And you trust Dumbledore?" Ginny asked neutrally.

"Yeah - yeah, I do." Harry suddenly looked angry again. "If I had listened to Dumbledore last year - if I'd done what he told me to - then I wouldn't have gone rushing off to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius would still be alive!"

There was a long pause. Harry looked down at his hands. Then Ginny bit her lip and said evenly:

"Maybe, Harry, but I'm glad you didn't always listen to what people told you. If you had, my skeleton might still be lying in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry's mouth opened.

"Well," said Ginny standing up, her cheeks flushed with color. "I - I think I'm going to bed now, Harry. Good night. If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

"Yeah," said Harry blankly.

He watched as Ginny got up from her chair and walked methodically up the staircase to the girls' dormitories and then stared down at the table in front of him. He was no longer thinking very much about his nightmare, he realized, but after everything else he had just said and heard, he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be getting very much more sleep that night.


	9. Ships that Pass in the Night

Chapter 9

Ships That Pass In The Night

A white knuckle double potions session on Friday afternoon finally came to an end and the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term rolled around. The Gryffindor common room was alive with chatter on Friday night, especially among the excited third years who were visiting Hogsmeade for the first time. Seamus was doing his best to take over the role of the now absent Fred and George in describing with great embellishments the numerous attractions and threats Hogsmeade presented. Anyone who listened to him would have thought that Hogsmeade was the last amusement park on earth rather than a small wizarding-only village.

The third years woke up early on Saturday morning for their first visit. It was nearly mid-morning, however, before Harry and Ron, after staying up late talking about a rumored Quidditch-only store that had just opened, finally made their way down to the Gryffindor common room where Hermione and Ginny were waiting.

"Of course," Hermione was saying, earning a silent groan from Harry, as the four Gryffindors walked down out of the main doors and across the grounds. "I'll be looking for some extra supplies for our action at the ball."

"I didn't know they had an explosives shop in Hogsmeade," retorted Ron.

"Actually, I was thinking of the joke shop," replied Hermione, grateful to have earned Ron's curiosity.

Harry was wracking his brains to think of a way to change the topic of conversation. He wished Hermione and Ron could get through one day without talking about S.P.E.W. or maybe even without trying to goad one another into an argument. Fortunately, Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines and entertained the trio of friends for the remainder of the journey with her deadpan imitations of Professor Umbridge.

"Or how about this one," Ginny was saying. She cleared her throat. "Hem, hem. Why," she started in a falsely sweet voice that was chillingly similar to their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. "Draco, I do believe those bat bogeys do wonders for your complexion. Now stand still, dear, while I kiss them all off."

Ron and Harry made a face while Hermione giggled.

"It'll just take – "

Ginny suddenly let out a small cry and clutched her forehead.

At first, no one reacted, merely assuming this was part of the performance but when Ginny continued to clutch her head after a few seconds, they started to grow concerned.

"Ginny, are you all right?" asked Hermione.

Ginny let out another cry as though someone was stabbing with a needle, her face closed tightly in pain. Ron, Hermione, and Harry crouched around her in concern as she bent down, holding her knees. After a brief moment, however, she stood up straight again, still rubbing her head.

"I don't know," she said, suddenly serious. "My forehead just started hurting. It seems all right now. Perhaps I haven't had very much sleep lately."

"Old Umbridge must have put a curse on this spot," joked Ron, without smiling.

Hermione's brow suddenly creased with curiosity as she looked up to see the wrought-iron gates and flying boars that marked the entrance to the school grounds.

"I wonder," she said as Ginny continued to rub her head.

"What?" asked Harry.

"No, I suppose it couldn't be," replied Hermione, an infuriatingly vacant expression on her face.

Ron looked a little impatient but Harry and Ginny just shrugged. Then when it seemed that Ginny had suffered no lasting harm, the four Gryffindors continued to make their way down to Hogsmeade. They started to talk again after a few moments of silence but Ron couldn't help but notice that his sister did not seem quite as energetic as she had when they had first started out and she did not continue her impersonations of Umbridge, as though taking his quip to heart.

It wasn't long before the first Hogsmeade buildings started to come into view. They passed the Shrieking Shack first and then Trans-figuration, the clothing store (Hermione said that they could visit there later, earning a suspicious glance from Ron). The street soon began to fill up with Hogwarts students, wearing a varied mix of casual robes and even Muggle pullovers and jeans in contrast to the typical uniform black of their school robes. Hermione noted with disapproval that lime green and canary yellow striped knee-length socks had come back into fashion once again.

"Hello, there, Gryffindors!" said a gravelly voice.

Hermione jumped back a little and all of the Gryffindors looked to their left to see Lord Ravenhurst staring back at them. Lord Ravenhurst was the portrait that marked the entrance to the only all-wizard public lavatory in Britain. Lord Ravenhurst was invariably jolly and seemed to pride himself on remembering the names of all the students and staff. Indulging Lord Ravenhurst in conversation was an acknowledged rite of passage for all third years but most of the older students tried to avoid him if possible. He was also known to chastise frequent visitors with sayings like "too much Butterbeer's not good for the liver, you know." He was partnered on the other side of the building by Lady Picklewick, a demure portrait with a drawn face and a high backed collar who marked the entrance to the only all-witch public lavatory in Britain. Unlike Lord Ravenhurst, Lady Picklewick rarely said a word. There had been talk of removing Lord Ravenhurst a few years before when, in a particularly frisky mood, he had attempted to move into Lady Picklewick's portrait and she, while trying to escape, had moved back into his. This had generated a great deal of embarrassed confusion.

"Hello, Lord Ravenhurst," said Harry, "enjoying the day?"

Lord Ravenhurst frowned. "The third years don't seem quite so sociable this year. I'm afraid someone might have warned them."

Harry was about to reply when he felt Ron tugging on the sleeve of his sweater. He was about to ask what the matter was when a truly bizarre sight reached his eyes. Looking back at Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, he could see that they were all thinking exactly the same thing. Walking up the high street in the opposite direction was Luna Lovegood, wearing the strangest costume Harry had yet seen her in: her customary necklace of Butterbeer bottle caps graced the top of a halter top and mini skirt that seemed to be made from pasted together clippings of The Daily Prophet. The wizards and witches on the photos seemed to have drifted into glued together pieces of other photos which they were never meant to have visited. Some of the photographed subjects seemed to find this quite curious while others seemed to be wandering around, panicked and lost. The outfit was completed by a pair of mismatched boots with the stuffed heads of a lion and an eagle sticking out from left and right toes respectively. Luna continued to wear her large pointed hat which on this day seemed to have settled its face into a smile.

And Luna was not alone. She walked arm in arm with Neville Longbottom whose eyes looked like they would explode as he caught sight of his four Gryffindor housemates.

"Neville," said Ron, trying desperately to contain a smirk.

"Ron - Harry - Hermione - Ginny," squeaked Neville. "I - I - I - I - we're - "

"We're on our first date," announced Luna, smiling, pulling Neville's arm closer to hers.

"That's a very," Ginny paused, "interesting outfit you're wearing, Luna."

Luna smiled engagingly.

"I made it over the summer while practicing sticking charms," she explained. "My father says The Daily Prophet is just useless but I don't agree."

"Isn't it a bit cold to be wearing that today, Luna?" said Hermione reproachfully.

"Oh, no," said Luna. "Besides, Neville would have preferred me in a bikini so this is a sort of compromise."

"I didn't!" squeaked Neville defensively. "I never said – "

"Oh, but you thought it, dear," said Luna, smiling. "I do like it when he's shy," she declared, kissing him on the cheek and causing a pale color to return to his complexion.

"Now don't stare too hard, Ronald," she chided as Ginny stuck her fist in her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "It's not my fault our animal mates aren't fated for each other."

"I - I - wasn't – "

But Luna had already moved on to Harry and had begun studying him as if he were a mildly curious laboratory experiment.

"Uh, hello, Luna."

"Why, Harry, I do believe you might be starting to lose your horns."

"Er - right."

"Well," said Luna dreamily as Hermione shook her head. "I think we'd better be going. I promised Neville I'd show him the Warty-Horned toad exhibit in the Hogsmeade museum. You know, he's never seen a blue one before?"

"Bye!" said Neville, still an unnaturally high voice, tugging Luna along with him.

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron stood still on the spot. They managed with difficulty to contain themselves until Neville and Luna were out of earshot and then collapsed into stitches of laughter. Ginny laughed so loud her ribs started to ache painfully but she was happy to see Harry join in. She was starting to wonder when she had last seen him laugh like this when something happened that stopped her from smiling altogether.

Michael Corner had just walked out of the boys' lavatory. He was alone.

"Hi, Ginny," he said, a little clumsily. "What's so funny?"

Ron had suddenly stopped laughing also.

"Oh, hi, Michael," said Ginny nervously. "Nothing."

"Hi, Harry," said Michael, his eyes leaving Ginny's for only the briefest of moments.

"Hi, Michael," said Harry. "How was your summer?"

Michael gave Harry a very odd-looking one-shouldered shrug before turning back to Ginny.

"So," said Ginny. "Where - uh - where's Cho?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" said Michael, his eyes seeming to bore into hers. "We broke up. She said I was too miserable."

Ron started to cough loudly.

"I expect she would know," said Michael, looking sideways at Harry.

"Yeah, she would," said Harry bitterly. "Anyway, you're better off without her, mate, believe me, you – "

Harry broke off as he looked sideways and noticed that Ron was looking very seriously at Michael, his jaw set rather oddly, while Hermione was looking anxiously over at Ron.

Michael, for his part, had already stopped listening to Harry and was staring at Ginny again who was starting to blush. Harry suddenly noticed how much taller he was than her.

"I heard you and Dean aren't going out anymore," said Michael.

"Oh - uh - right, we broke up," said Ginny quickly.

"I'm sorry," said Michael. He didn't look it. "Listen, Ginny," he said urgently. "If you're not going to the ball with anyone, I'd like to ask you."

"I - I'm sorry, Michael," said Ginny stiffly. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Why not, Ginny?" asked Michael, looking hurt. "Look, I'm sorry about all the rotten things I said to you before."

"It's not just - it's not – " Ginny paused and shot a furtive sideways glance at her three companions. Part of her felt sorry for Michael but another part of her sighed in disbelief at his imbecilic decision to ask her to the dance right in front of her brother and her friends, reminding Ginny very much of why she had broken up with him in the first place.

"Look, Michael, I - I don't think this is a good time to be discussing this."

"Discussing what? We're not discussing anything. I'm just asking you – "

Ginny looked back at Ron, Harry, and Hermione again and this time Michael did not fail to notice.

"Look, it's just – "

"I LOVE YOU, GINNY WEASLEY, AND I DON'T CARE HOW MANY PEOPLE KNOW IT!"

Ginny screwed up her fists and willed with all her might for the ground to break open and swallow her whole. She was certain things couldn't get any worse. Then they did.

Ron took a step forward.

"She doesn't want you, anymore, Corner, don't you get it?"

Michael rounded on Ron.

"Sorry, Weasley, I don't recall asking your opinion," he said hotly.

Ron's eyes narrowed and his face turned a deep purple. Harry and Hermione quickly grabbed onto his arms just as he started to lurch forward to attack Michael. Ron struggled against the restraining grips of his friends. To make matters worse, Michael had started to roll up the sleeves of his sweater to reveal a pair of forearms nearly as scrawny as Ron's.

"Let me go!" Ron demanded. "He's deserved it for a long time!"

"No, Ron, stop it!" cried Hermione.

Hermione was not as strong as Harry which caused Ron to pull to his right and led the three friends in a strange pirouette.

"I'm not afraid of you, Weasley!" said Michael. "Your sister and I would still be going out if it weren't for you talking dirt about me!"

"It's got nothing to do with him!" shouted Hermione suddenly, temporarily losing her grip on Ron's arm and causing Harry to grab his best friend frantically around the stomach like he was restraining a crazed dog.

"LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE! Let me go!"

"Drop it, mate, all right?" said Harry, his teeth clenched with the effort of restraining Ron.

"Let me go, Harry! Let me have a go at him! Let me!"

Michael backed away slightly.

"I won't forget about this, Weasley! And next time you won't have your friends around to protect you!"

"Goddess, what a bloody idiot!" cried Hermione as Ron spun her and Harry around in an attempt to follow Michael who had walked past Ginny without another word and down the street back in the direction of the school.

Michael had walked a good fifty meters past them and Ron was still struggling against Harry and Hermione who were standing in front of him now and blocking him from following Michael.

"Look, stop it! Stop!" Hermione bellowed into Ron's face.

She stomped hard on his toe three times.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" cried Ron back but he finally stopped struggling.

Hermione and Harry released Ron and the three friends stood on the spot panting from their efforts, neither saying a word at first. It was finally Hermione who broke the silence.

"Come on, we're going to The Three Broomsticks," she declared officiously and before anyone could stop her, she had marched off in the direction of the pub. The others followed a little more reluctantly. The entire walk down what was, for most of the other students who milled passed them, the cheerful and lively main street of Hogsmeade, was passed in extremely awkward silence. None of them seemed to know what to say to one another, though Harry sensed that Hermione was preparing a formidable agenda of rebukes for Ron which would likely set them off against each other for a good week. He found himself somewhat surprised, however, that Ginny herself had remained quiet. For reasons he kept safely locked away far in the back of his mind, she had not been herself around him for many years and as a result, Harry didn't have the feeling that he'd known Ginny for very long but from what he had seen and did know, it amazed him that she wasn't shouting and flinging hexes at her brother all the way down the street. He glanced at her for as long as he dared; he certainly didn't want her to catch him looking at her: things were tense enough as it was. In that brief stare, however, Harry was struck by how pale and sullen Ginny looked especially in contrast to the flushed face and defiantly folded arms of her similarly-complexioned brother. It was difficult for Harry to believe that he was looking at the same girl who had seemed so full of energy when they had first left the school and she was impersonating their erstwhile headmaster.

Despite his disease at the silence that seemed to travel between the four of them, Harry found that The Three Broomsticks approached much sooner than he wanted. He was the only one of the four to pass a cheerful wave to Hagrid whom he noted with slight interest was sitting in a corner table with Madame Maxime who looked slightly worse for wear since he had last seen her. Hermione quickly led them to a table at the corner, far away from the colorful scene of the main street through the pub's windows to a somewhat dim table in the corner which she no doubt thought would be more private but that Harry found almost unbearably claustrophobic.

There was little noise as they Harry sat down at the table save for Ron's angry pounding of his elbows on the table top. Harry looked up to see Hermione looking down at him despairingly and expected her to join them when she unexpectedly grabbed Ron's elbow and hoisted him up.

"What?" he demanded irritably.

"Don't get comfortable." Hermione poked him in the chest. "We're just dropping these two off. We have some Christmas shopping to do, remember?"

Ron's expression changed from anger to complete bewilderment.

"No," he replied.

"Well, we do," declared Hermione.

"You finally have gone completely barking, haven't you? I knew this would happen. What on earth are we going Christmas shopping for?"

"Harry. Wasn't it you who was telling me about that new Quidditch shop you wanted to visit?"

Harry stood up, feeling not for the first time that his two best friends had not noticed he was still there.

"For me? But why don't I – "

"You can't very well come, too, can you?" said Hermione shortly. She caught Harry's eye and nodded her head slightly in Ginny's direction, after which Harry stared back at her with an expression identical to Ron's.

"Could you at least explain to me why we're going Christmas shopping in October?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Honestly, Ron, if you wait until the last minute everything will be taken."

Hermione pulled a protesting Ron from his seat and shoved him, slightly roughly, back in the direction of the front entrance to the pub. She turned to follow him out of the door and was making her way in between the crowded tables of the room when Harry walked up behind her and grabbed hold of her arm.

"Stay here!" Hermione demanded in a stage whisper. "Look after Ginny!"

"But Hermione, don't you think you'd be better at that than me? Let me talk to Ron. I'll make him see sense better than you will!"

"No, Harry." Hermione pushed him gently back in the direction of Ginny's table. "You stay here."

"But what am I supposed to say to her?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Harry, I thought we'd been over this before. All you have to do when a girl talks is listen."

"When a girl talks? What's that got to do with what happened with Ginny?"

"She's a girl, you know."

"Yes, but – "

"Harry, just trust me!"

Hermione turned on her heel and walked out of the pub before Harry could say another word. With a mounting sense of dread, he turned around to rejoin Ginny at the table who was staring at the varnished lines on the table top in front of her. She looked up briefly as he returned as if only dully aware of the world around her. No more than a few indeterminable moments had passed when it became painfully obvious to Harry that it would be very hard to just sit and listen to Ginny when she wasn't going to talk.

"Er, w – would you like a Butterbeer?" Harry asked, a little gingerly.

He was somewhat relieved when Ginny nodded, though she still looked pale and continued to stare down at the table top. He quickly moved to the bar and ordered two Butterbeers, exchanged in some impatient conversation with Madam Rosmerta, and then returned to the table.

Ginny barely acknowledged receiving her Butterbeer though she managed to take a few sips. Harry took slightly larger gulps of his Butterbeer as if doing so would somehow make the time pass more quickly. He stared down at the gratuitous amount of foam that seemed to collect on the surface of every pint of the stuff, wondering what his next step should be now that Hermione's suggestion was obviously not going to work. He chanced a glance up at Ginny only see two large tear drops falling silently down her cheeks.

Harry desperately wanted to say something that would make Ginny stop crying but he couldn't think what it would be. He wasn't sure why but he suddenly remembered how Cho had stood in front of him in the Room of Opportunity, crying in just the same way and on neither occasion had Harry known anything to say or do that would make them stop. A sudden wave of guilt rushed over him and he had the irrational feeling that it was not Michael or Ron but he who had made Ginny suffer just like he had led Cedric to his death and made Cho cry.

"I – I'm sorry," he suddenly said, feeling immediately foolish.

Ginny looked back at Harry, her expression unchanging and tears continuing to run down her face.

"Oh, Harry," she said, in a voice so quiet it haunted him. "What on earth do you have to be sorry about? I – it's just sometimes all a little too much, that's all."

She stood up.

"Please tell Hermione I'm sorry. I – I – I have to go."

Ginny dried her eyes with the sleeve of her robes and weaved quickly between the clusters of tables, looking down at the ground to hide her tears. Harry wanted to tell her to stop and come back but the words seemed to take ages to reach his lips and by that time Ginny had already made her way to the door and left.

* * *

Voldemort sat in his forest staring at the diary which now rested on a patch of damp black earth. Soft spots of rain splattered its front cover and fell down the front of the Dark Lord's robes but he did not appear to care. Anyone who approached near enough would have noticed that Voldemort was panting heavily as if he had just run a race.

Voldemort forced himself to concentrate on what he had learned. It had been nearly an hour since his link to Ginny Weasley had been severed abruptly as she had swiftly passed back through the entrance gate to Hogwarts. Much of his plan had been a success. He was sure she had not felt the link. She had experienced some momentary discomfort when he had initiated the link but that had been all.

And he had seen into her thoughts. He also knew that Harry Potter had spent most of the morning together with her and even when she had left him, she had known exactly where he was. Voldemort told himself that this was sufficient for his plans. He would not need to possess her.

Which was good.

Voldemort fought back a wave of anxiety as he reflected on how difficult it would have been to control this girl if he had tried. She had been so much easier to manipulate in her sleep. He had supposed her to be simple-minded but he could see that he had been wrong. He clutched his head as he tried to struggle to control and repress the alien emotions that sped through his mind, emotions that seemed to constantly erupt to the surface of Ginny's conscious thought: hope, love, courage, fear, and despair - feelings she seemed to cling to one moment and force down the next. Voldemort recalled a distant memory of a boy, too young to have yet begun his schooling at Hogwarts, whose witless mudblood father had strapped him into a small child's roller-coaster at a carnival and watched in amusement as he had run around and around the track. Voldemort remembered how helpless he had felt, how someone else and not he himself had been in perilous control of his every movement, how he had vowed never to feel that way again.

And now Ginny Weasley had forced him to recall that memory. And Voldemort was sure he did not like that.

Voldemort tried to recover his composure. He knew he could not face his Death Eaters in this state. And there was so much still to plan. He needed to find another forest. He needed to feed again. He imagined the thrill of power that would come from trapping another unicorn, the energy that would surge through him on drinking its blood. Yes, he would certainly feel much better then.

* * *

Halloween came and went in an unusually uneventful fashion. The feast had been especially delicious this year and Hagrid had outdone himself with the enormous size of the pumpkins he had grown for the event. Hermione had been extremely busy with whatever she was planning for the Guy Fawkes ball. She was constantly meeting with Colin, Neville and now, Arabella, and whatever it was she had bought at Zonko's had mysteriously vanished. When Harry finally told Ron about his conversation with Winky in Dumbledore's office at the beginning of the term, Ron suspected that the items were being stored down in the kitchens. Whatever the case, as the week went on, Hermione seemed to grow more exasperated. It soon became apparent that the house elves were getting cold feet about their part of the arrangement, and it was starting to look as if the whole thing was going to be called off. But Hermione continued to work at all hours, desperate to put some part of her plan into effect.

Though they might not have thought she had taken any notice, Hermione could see that as the week went by and the Guy Fawkes ball grew nearer and nearer, Ron and Harry were experiencing a great deal of barely controlled mental anguish, albeit of a somewhat different nature. Harry had grown even more sullen than usual although he continued to claim, with decreasing convincingness, that the approach of the ball made no difference to him one way or the other. Ron also pretended nonchalance, but if anything, he seemed even worse. He was hardly eating any of his food and seemed just as frightened during History as Magic, which was now given over to Binns' announcements of upcoming arrangements for the ball, as he was during Professor Dibble's potions lessons from hell. Hermione could not stand this behavior. For her, inaction seemed totally pointless. You just asked the girl to the dance. If she said no, you asked someone else. And then finally, at breakfast on the morning of the day before the ball, Hermione made her feelings clear.

"Neither of you have asked a girl to the dance yet, have you?"

Ron dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl, causing milk and wizard puffs to splash all over the table.

"I'll take that as a no." She sighed and shook her head, turning back to her own breakfast and the open book next to her on the table.

"I told you before I don't care about the stupid dance!" retorted Harry.

"Fine, Harry," said Hermione, forcing her exasperation down with effort. In truth, she had very much hoped that Ginny might have asked him by now or, even perhaps, that he might have asked her. But Ginny had been avoiding her ever since their Hogsmeade fiasco. In fact, she had seemed unusually withdrawn around everyone as if she had somehow inherited some of Harry's less desirable personality traits.

Hermione forced her concerns about her friend down for a moment and turned to regard Ginny's intractable brother like a piece of rotting sausage that had wandered too near her nose.

"What about you then?" she demanded. "I don't suppose you've asked anyone yet?"

"No, I've only just last night made up my mind who I'm going to ask."

Forgetting for the moment to feign disinterest, Harry looked up at Ron in surprise. He wondered if he was bluffing for Hermione's benefit.

"Really?" replied Hermione incredulously. "And who would that be?"

"I'm going to ask the beautiful girl in the school." Ron suddenly downed his orange juice in one gulp as if it were a shot of vodka and stared back at Hermione, daring her to defy him.

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise. "And I suppose the most beautiful girl in the school is not taken, the day before the dance?"

"That's right. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some planning to do."

And with that Ron stood up, grabbed his bag, and left the Great Hall.

Hermione looked back at Harry but could see he was just as bewildered. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, finished a large piece of sausage, piled her books into her bag and made her excuses to leave. She hesitated for a moment as she put her bag around her shoulder, wondering if she should say something to Harry about the dance, or about Ginny, but then decided against it and left him with a quick goodbye for the library. As she walked out of the door and made her quickly toward the staircase, she forced herself to tear her mind away from Ron's strange pronouncement, and Harry and Ginny's mutually infuriating moods. If she could just find that one book Arabella had said she'd seen, then she knew that Dobby would see things her way. A voice behind her made her stop.

"Hermione, wait."

It was Ginny.

Hermione stopped and turned around. Ginny walked over to her. Hermione could see she looked a little frightened and almost a little sad.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I left that day and I'm sorry about what happened."

Hermione shook her head and took Ginny's hands in hers.

"I'm sorry, too, Ginny. I thought you would feel better if I left you with Harry but I guess it didn't work."

"I couldn't, Hermione." Ginny flinched as though a bee had flown too close to her face. "I couldn't. Not on top of everything else that happened."

"Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione knitted her brow in concern. "You've looked awful ever since we were in Hogsmeade. You're not yourself at all. Did Michael bother you that much – or Ron – or were you thinking about Harry?"

Ginny just shook her head.

"I gave Ron a good talking to when we out to the Quidditch shop," Hermione reported, trying to sound hopeful. "I don't think he'll try that again. And I think Michael will avoid you now, too. I wouldn't take anything he said too seriously"

"I know, Hermione. I can deal with them, anyway, and I - I'm better now," was all Ginny said, and Hermione could see that a normal color had indeed returned to her face, but she still looked at the younger girl with concern.

"Well, Hermione," Ginny said after a moment's pause. "I know you're awfully busy with S.P.E.W. so – "

"Wait, Ginny. What are you going to do about Harry now? Look, maybe you should ask him to the ball. We don't have another Hogsmeade weekend but maybe I could find some way to fix things up so the two of you will be alone."

"Maybe," said Ginny vacantly, a very odd smile playing on her lips. "Actually, though, I already have an idea."

* * *

Later that night, Harry sat next to Hermione, trying to finish a long parchment about the properties of the Synchronis Totalis curse. Hermione, who had not failed to mention to Harry that she had finished the parchment days ago, had a large folder of S.P.E.W. parchments sprawled out over the table to her right and her Arithmancy book opened up in front of her. It seemed to Harry that she was looking at both at the same time. Every now and then, Colin, Neville, or Arabella would draw up and whisper furtively in her ear. She would then nod and whisper back further instructions.

Ron had disappeared after dinner, saying that he had something to take care of. Harry suspected that this had something to do with the girl he was supposedly planning to ask to the dance, but he wondered why he hadn't told him anything. It was certainly not like Ron. Harry looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly 9:00. He was about to ask Hermione where she thought Ron had gotten to when he was aware of a tall, lanky figure walking up and standing across from Hermione's chair. He knew that it was Ron without looking up and continued to concentrate on his parchment as he had reached a rather tricky explanation that he did not want to have to think over twice. He was just beginning to think it strange that Ron hadn't pulled up a chair to sit down himself when Ron said:

"Hermione."

"Yes," Hermione replied, without looking up from her work.

"I - I wondered if I could ask you something."

"Ask away."

Hermione still kept her nose down in her Arithmancy book, but there was an edge to Ron's voice that made Harry look up. He was shocked to see that Ron did not look very well at all. His face had a sickly green pallor and his eyes were glazed over. He kept looking furtively behind him as if he expected a Boggart to leap out from the wall but all Harry could see there was the boys' bathroom.

"I - I - I was wondering whether you - well, whether you would go to the ball with me."

Harry's jaw dropped but Hermione continued to look down at her Arithmancy book. Harry did notice, however, that color started to rise in her cheeks.

"Ron," she said slowly. "I thought we'd discussed this two years ago. If you want to ask me to the dance, you have to ask first and not because someone else won't go with you."

But Harry could already see that Hermione had seriously misunderstood the situation. He watched as Ron's lower lip began to tremble. Harry pushed his chair back a little as if to guard himself from an imminent explosion.

"Anyway," Hermione went on, oblivious, turning another page in her book. "I already told you I'm not going. And what happened to the most beautiful girl in the school?"

"SHE'S SITTING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME BUT SHE'S TOO BLOODY THICK TO NOTICE!"

Suddenly no one in the Gryffindor common room was doing any work. Harry's parchment rolled up with his quill still inside. Hermione's Arithmancy book fell to the floor with a loud crash as she looked up at Ron.

For a moment, there was total silence. Harry watched as a single tear fell down Ron's left cheek.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier, Hermione," Ron continued, his voice thick with emotion. "It's not easy to tell the girl you like how you really feel about her."

Hermione stood up. Harry could see she was in complete shock. So was he.

"R - R - Ron," she finally stammered. "B - but I didn't know, I didn't think - "

"That's right, Hermione," said Ron. "And now, I'd just like to ask you one more time. Just so you're clear. I am asking you, Hermione Granger, to stop whatever it is you were going to do and come with me to the ball."

And without waiting for a response, Ron turned on his heel, walked into the boys' bathroom, and closed the door behind him.


	10. Wobbly Weasleys

Chapter 10

Wobbly Weasleys

Harry cautiously pushed open the door to the boys' bathroom. "Ron?" he asked.

There was no response.

"Ron, are you in here?" asked Harry again.

Harry suddenly heard a loud retching sound coming from the third stall as Ron released the remains of the little dinner he had eaten into the toilet.

Harry was glad Ron could not see the expression on his face as he waited for the nauseating sound to subside.

"Ron," he asked again. "Are you all right?"

"What do you think?" came a feeble squeak from the toilet.

"Ron, let's go to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey can give you something for that stomach."

"I'm not going outside that door."

"Ron, you can't stay in here forever."

"Just until Hermione graduates."

Harry paused for a moment and then said. "Ron, why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I tell you? I – oh, Harry – I – I don't know what made me do it. All those people. Everyone saw me. I'll never be able to show my face out there again."

"No, Ron, stop it. This is ridiculous. You're being childish."

"Easy for you to say. Harry," Ron added, before Harry could respond. "You don't think, you don't suppose, that, well, Hermione's part Veela, do you?"

Harry was glad Ron couldn't see the smirk that was now covering his face. "I think we would have noticed it before now, don't you?"

Ron paused for a moment. "You're right. That's not really like her at all. I know," he said suddenly. "I'll bet she's cooked up some kind of spell or potion. Harry," he said, with a sudden note of alarm. "I think Hermione has put me under the Imperius curse."

Harry could not stop himself from laughing out loud.

"Harry, it's not funny. I'm serious. She's good with spells. I bet she's learned how to master it already. And – and – it's just like we learned in class. I feel like I'm not in control of myself at all, like she's got me on the end of a string. She could ask me to do anything she wanted and I would do it. It's definitely the Imperius curse. Maybe we should talk to Professor McGonagall."

"Ron," said Harry seriously. "I think maybe you're in love."

Ron didn't respond.

"Ron?"

"That was going to be my next suggestion," came a frightened squeak.

"Ron, you've got to come out now. I'll help you. You can do it." Harry walked over to the door to the stall where Ron was hiding. "Let's get you cleaned up and then you can come out and talk to Hermione."

"I've got a much better idea. Why don't we go visit Aragog? I bet he's getting lonely. You could even feed me to him for supper. It would be a quick, painless death."

"No, Ron." Harry felt his patience slipping away. "You are coming out to talk to Hermione. Now. She's waited long enough." He looked at his watch. It had been nearly an hour since Ron had asked Hermione to the ball.

"How is she taking it, anyway?" asked Ron.

"Well, er….." Harry hesitated for a moment as he clearly recalled the events that had taken place in the common room after Ron had disappeared into the bathroom.

For the first half hour, Hermione had sat dead still in her chair, an expression of alarm and surprise plastered to her face. Harry had not dared to say anything and, in any case, he suspected he had much the same look on his own face as well. He vaguely recalled seeing Neville out of his peripheral vision walk over with some type of S.P.E.W. document but on seeing Hermione's expression, had thought better of it and left. Indeed, the whole common room had seemed to be avoiding Hermione and Harry as if they carried some horrible infectious disease. A frightened looking first-year had tried to use the bathroom but had been waved away by Dean, who seemed to be treating the whole area surrounding Harry and Hermione's table and the bathroom as some kind of crime scene.

Then, very suddenly, Hermione had stood up and begun pacing around the common room. The empty spaces were quickly cleared so she could have free reign without having to interact with any of her fellow Gryffindors. She had continued pacing for a few minutes. At first, the Gryffindors whose seats she had passed had looked up at her nervously but after a while, they had begun to return to their work, merely assuming that she had finally flipped. It had been just as sudden – at least to Harry – when Hermione had finally broken into speech.

"There's been a change of plan," she declared in a strident and very unnatural voice, as if she was practicing a public speech or performing on the stage. It had taken everyone a moment to realize she had been talking to Colin, Neville, and Arabella who were cowering near the fireplace.

"I – I don't think we should go ahead with the action," Hermione had declared, her voice cracking. "After all, the house elves don't really want to do it and – and I'm not sure it would generate the right sort of publicity after all."

Colin, Neville, and Arabella had nodded in unison even though Hermione was still walking up and down, staring into space and not looking directly at them.

"And so, I think we should concentrate our efforts – "

"Hermione."

Harry had stopped breathing. Neville had walked up to Hermione and put his hand gently on her forearm. Harry had not been sure how Hermione would react to this but she had just stopped and stared at Neville.

"If you want to go to the ball with Ron, we understand," he had said.

Harry and Hermione had both seen that Colin and Arabella, still standing next to the fireplace, were nodding their agreement.

Hermione's expression had suddenly softened. Even Harry had felt a smile start to come to his face. Neville had certainly grown up a great deal from the boy who had been hexed into petrification by the very same witch his first year.

"Thank you, Neville," she had said in a more normal tone of voice.

"A – actually," Neville had continued, his face breaking into a blush. "Luna was hoping - "

"Oh, Neville," Hermione had said, touching his forearm in reciprocation. "Oh, for heavens sake, go and ask her. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I – I didn't want to disappoint you, Hermione."

"No, Neville. Go along and ask her now." Hermione's voice had started to take on an authoritative tone again.

Neville had nodded and turned away, leaving the common room quickly.

Hermione had watched Neville until some time after the portrait had already swung closed behind him, then sighed and sat back down again.

Harry had quickly returned to his own seat. "I – I didn't know, Hermione, I swear," he had said a little nervously. "He didn't tell me anything."

"I know, Harry. I believe you," Hermione had quietly replied. She had then looked up at the door to the bathroom. "Is he going to stay in there all night?" she had wondered.

"I'd better go in and take a look," Harry had replied.

And so he had found himself in the bathroom talking to his best friend who had just asked his other best friend to the Guy Fawkes ball, a request that had gone straight to his stomach.

Harry managed to give a somewhat abbreviated account of Hermione's reaction. He tried to make Hermione's behavior sound somewhat normal but Ron still said:

"S – so she didn't actually say yes?"

"Well, not in so many words, Ron, but I don't think she would have canceled the action if she didn't really want to go with you. Obviously, she's waiting to talk you. You did the hard part. You asked her. Now she has to say something to you."

Ron's only reply was a low mumbled whimper.

There was another long pause. Finally, Ron said:

"OK, I'll go out, but on one condition."

"Yes?"

"I'm wearing the invisibility cloak."

* * *

Hermione watched Harry disappear into the boys' bathroom. After a few moments, she was aware of another red-headed Weasley sliding into the vacant seat next to her with two mugs in her hand.

"I thought you might like some tea." Ginny slid a mug in her direction.

Hermione suddenly felt warm even though she hadn't yet touched the tea. "Thanks," she took the tea and sipped it. It was wonderful.

The two girls sat in silence for a moment. Then Ginny suddenly started to giggle.

"What?" asked Hermione.

Ginny giggled again.

"Is it really that funny?" Hermione demanded, sounding a little annoyed.

"Well, it is a little. I mean, here you are, coaching me and this comes up in hits you right in the eye. And the look on your face. You really had no idea." Ginny started giggling again and had to put down her tea for fear that she wouldn't be able to swallow it.

Hermione frowned for a moment and then started to smirk. And before long she had collapsed into giggles herself.

"It's true," she admitted, feeling herself start to unwind. "I spend so much time with boys, I'm just as thick as they are."

The girls kept giggling for a moment and were studiously avoided by the remainder of the Gryffindors who assumed that this was a further sign of madness. Then Ginny said:

"Anyhow, obviously, he likes you and you like him, so you should be happy."

Hermione frowned at Ginny. "Do I like him?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Ginny, without a trace of doubt.

"What makes you think I like him?"

"The way you argue."

"Arguing makes you think I like him?"

"No, it's the way you do it. Like nothing else matters to you in the world but each other. You argue because you want to feel that closeness but when you do get that close, all you can do is argue because you're afraid you'll have to face feelings that are too strong for you to handle."

Hermione considered this for a moment.

"And there's another thing, too," added Ginny. "You're afraid if you like each other too much, Harry will be left all by himself."

"Nothing much escapes you, does it?" Hermione finally said.

Ginny swallowed a sip of tea. "Survival in a large family."

"Ginny," said Hermione seriously. "But this has got to be a little strange for you. I mean, he's your brother."

Ginny shook her head. "I have a lot of brothers. It's not the first time."

At that moment, the door to the boys' bathroom opened and Harry walked out.

Ginny and Hermione stared up at him, immediately rigid to attention.

"Well?" demanded Hermione.

Harry looked anxiously at her. "He – he wants the invisibility cloak."

Hermione slammed her palms down on the table to which Ginny shrugged and took another sip of tea.

"Oh, honestly, this is so stupid!"

"I know, I know." Harry tried to pacify his friend. "I have an idea. Just – just wait a little while longer, OK?"

Hermione groaned.

Harry went up his dormitory and returned a few minutes later with the cloak, then disappeared back into the bathroom, smiling weakly at an anxious looking Hermione. A good ten minutes then passed which seemed to Hermione like ten hours. Finally, Harry opened the door again, apparently alone, but he kept nudging his head in the direction of an empty space to his right. Harry noticed uncomfortably that the common room was staring in their direction once again to watch the conclusion of the drama.

There was a sudden sound of movement. Harry immediately grabbed the thing on his right which had been moving away. The cloak pulled away in his hand to reveal a frightened and disheveled looking Ron trying to disappear up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

He turned back and stared at Harry, a look of deep betrayal on his face.

"I'm sorry," said Harry flatly, "but it's for your own good."

Ron looked around nervously and saw the whole common room pretending not to look at him. His eyes then rested on Hermione and suddenly she was the only person there.

He watched her hazel eyes looking directly back at him. They looked as deep and soft as the night's sky. He saw her once again the way she had looked the night they had sat together in Dumbledore's office. It seemed like all of Hermione's hopes and fears were open to Ron. He realized then and there that the Hermione he had fallen for that night had always been there, just beneath the surface, waiting for him to release.

The look in Hermione's eyes did not change as she got up from the table and walked over toward Ron. Slowly, as if touching the surface of an alien planet for the first time, she rested a single finger on the top of his left knuckle. Ron suddenly felt a hot surge of energy was running through his body from that one point.

Hermione looked up at his face. "Ron, you look awful," she said in a very soft voice.

Ron suddenly didn't feel awful at all.

"I – I – I've been thinking," said Hermione, still very softly, looking down at where her finger was still touching Ron's hand. "I don't think I'll be doing anything with S.P.E.W. after all, so – um – well, I'd really like to go to the dance with you. That is, if you're still asking me." She looked up hopefully into his eyes.

Ron opened his mouth but no sound came out. He managed to nod.

"Good." Hermione's face broke into a full smile. Ron suddenly felt as if he was going to pass out.

Hermione took her finger away from Ron's hand. "Um, I – I've still got to do finish some of my Arithmancy. I – is that OK? We can study together?" she suggested as if that wasn't what they did all of the time.

Ron nodded. That was OK. Anything was OK.

And so Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down again and began to study. Ginny retreated almost imperceptibly to the chair next to her friends where all of her work was still sprawled out. Harry retrieved his quill only to find it had streaked all over the bottom part of his parchment. He thought he would have to re-copy the last section but Hermione quickly rectified the problem with a flick of her wand. After Harry had finally finished, he invited Ron to a game of wizard chess. To his slight surprise, Ron eagerly agreed and Hermione packed up her work, too, and soon was sitting beside them. It was as if nothing had happened the whole night.

But things soon proved too much for Ron (he even nearly lost a game) and he went back to the dormitory, complaining of fatigue. He exchanged a shy good night with Hermione who soon made her own way up to bed. But Harry suddenly didn't feel so tired. He looked thoughtfully at the wizard chess pieces for a time before flicking his wand and making them all disappear underneath the round table again. By the time he had made it to bed, he could hear the now uncommon sound of Ron snoring. Harry pulled the covers over his head and it wasn't long until he, too, fell asleep.

But he woke up after a while, bothered with another nightmare. In this dream, Professor Nevins had placed the class into two rows again. He had asked them all to find partners. Hermione eagerly paired up with Ron and Neville with Luna. Soon everyone had a partner except for Harry. Professor Nevins looked down at him with a look of deep disappointment in his eyes. He told Harry with a slight note of sadness that if Harry couldn't find a partner for the exercise, then he could do nothing to help him. Harry would have to leave Hogwarts and face Voldemort all by himself.

* * *

History of Magic was cancelled the next morning as Binns went to greet Henrietta Handsdowne who had just floated in. Seamus had made everyone groan at breakfast that morning when he suggested that Binns had wanted some time alone with her before the dance. As soon as Harry had found out there wouldn't be any History of Magic, he went to see if Ginny had time that morning to practice her passing with him and was relieved to find that she also had the period free. Considering how close they were to the traditionally important game with Slytherin, he was very anxious about how badly she had botched her set-ups to Katie in their last practice and had been pleased when she had agreed to make time to practice with him one-on-one. He hadn't understood it; she hadn't made those simple mistakes before. Maybe she was getting nervous before the game or maybe something about that whole Michael Corner thing was still bothering her. Whatever the case, as he walked to the field with her that morning, Harry was happy to be worrying about Quidditch instead of having to worry about everything else that had happened lately.

It was a beautifully clear, if windy and cool, autumn day. The Quaffle looked brilliantly sharp against the sea blue sky. Whatever Ginny's problems had been in practice, she was on perfect form today. Harry took Katie's position and they practiced flying and passing from every possible angle. Next they practiced with Harry in the opponent's position. He tried to block Ginny, then have her pass to a cardboard teammate which they had conjured to float merrily near the goalposts but Ginny proved herself nearly as swift as Harry in a much less powerful broomstick. Finally, Harry flew over to Ginny and told her how much she had improved.

"You're a good teacher, Harry," she said, to which he found he couldn't help but smile a little.

"You're a good chaser. Just don't get nervous in the game."

"I won't," said Ginny brightly, watching Harry toss the Quaffle back and forth between both hands.

"I knew you would be a good captain, you know," she added. "I remember the way you used to teach the D.A."

Harry's smile faded noticeably but Ginny did not choose to drop the subject.

"Luna told me Nevins put her in your class. She said she only got so good because of the DA."

"Well, I'm sure it was because of what happened in the Department of Mysteries," said Harry, starting to sound a little defensive.

If Ginny had noticed that Harry had grown uncomfortable with the change of topic, she did not show it.

"Colin asked me the other day when you were going to start up class again. I told him I had no idea." She fixed Harry with an uncomfortably piercing stare.

Harry found himself starting to get more than a little annoyed. Hadn't Ron and Hermione warned her anything? Did she know how touchy he was about this kind of thing?

"Well, you can tell him he might be waiting a very long time!" Harry retorted, a little sharply. He began to toss the Quaffle back and forth with greater force.

Ginny continued to smile but a flush started to rise in her cheeks.

"It's really stupid of you not starting it up again, you know. What if – "

"Look!" Harry stiffened. "I – "

Before Harry could finish his sentence, Ginny grabbed the Quaffle in mid-flight right out from under his face. Feeling even more miffed, he made a quick grab for it but Ginny had already dived sharply down so that his arms clutched rather stupidly around thin air.

Harry turned around to speed after Ginny but even though he gained on her very fast, she had so much of an edge on him already that it was ridiculously easy for her to drop the Quaffle into the nearest hoop. To add insult to injury, she skirted around the pole and picked up the Quaffle from the other side, then swooped back up to meet the upcoming Harry with an elated smile on her face.

"People might say all kind of things to you in the match, Harry. Think of Malfoy. You can't let them get to you."

"I wasn't!" said Harry angrily. "I wouldn't!"

Ginny nodded, still smiling. "It's the first time I've beaten you to the hoop, you know."

"Yeah, but – you – I – I've been taking it easy on you, you know!"

"Really? Looks like you better stop then!"

"Right then, I will." The expression on Harry's face hardened.

Ginny giggled.

"What's funny?" Harry demanded, not amused in the least.

"It's just you've never shown so much passion to me before."

"What's that supposed to – "

But Ginny had grabbed the Quaffle again and circled around to the front of the goal posts, trying to force Harry to play keeper. Harry wasn't having it, however: he darted straight toward Ginny, channeling his anger through competition as he had so many times before. Ginny tried to dive but Harry anticipated her feint perfectly and reached down to tear the Quaffle out of her hands without so much as touching a hair on Ginny's head. He swept down and then back around, picking up momentum as he sped toward the bottom of the poles below the scoring hoops. Dangerously close to a collision, he stuck out his right trainer and bounced it off the side of the pole. He winced as he did so, but lost only a split-second's momentum as he rode up the pole and scooped the Quaffle into the right hoop.

He caught the Quaffle back again just as Ginny had and was pleased to find that the smile had left her face, replaced by a look of determination he hoped she would wear when they were playing Slytherin. Harry circled around in front of the goal posts just as Ginny had done on the last play. They stared at each other for a moment, then Harry moved sharply to his right, trying to dart around Ginny in the direction of the right hoop again. He thought he had made it past her but at the last second, Ginny spun around in mid air and used her foot to guide the bristles of her broomstick right up toward Harry's face. He swerved up and missed her but the Quaffle fell out of his hands. Harry tried to correct his momentum but Ginny had already dived down for the Quaffle and he knew that if he chased after her that she would take it straight to the hoop. Instead, he swerved back around and headed toward the hoop himself to head her off.

Harry's ploy worked and he arrived at the hoop before Ginny. She circled up from her dive and gained momentum toward the hoop. If she was surprised when she saw that Harry was there already, she didn't show it. Harry rocked back and forth on his Firebolt, ready to dive in either direction but Ginny did not try to swerve and weave as he expected. Her eyes narrowing, she cannoned straight toward Harry. Much to his own dismay, Harry found himself retreating back toward the hoop. Just as Ginny was close enough for Harry to count the freckles on her face, she titled her broomstick to the right before swerving her broomstick with her feet at the last minute underneath Harry and to the left. But she had not counted on his experience. At the last fraction of a second, Harry felt without knowing exactly where she was going and moved to stop her.

But by this point, they were much too close. With a loud splitting sound, the handles of the two broomsticks collided. Harry's was the much stronger of the two, however, and the top half of Ginny's Cleansweep split right off. Gasping, she let go without thinking. Harry lunged out just as Ginny was spinning away from him and grabbed her tightly against him. Both of the Gryffindors watched, gasping, as Ginny's broomstick tumbled toward the ground in two pieces.

Harry's wand was out of his robes quickly.

"Reparo!" he cried. "Accio Cleansweep!"

Ginny's broomstick sealed itself and glided back up towards them. It nudged the side of Ginny's robes like a neglected pet but she did not grab onto it. Instead, she continued to hold onto Harry tightly. Harry, for his part, continued to clutch her protectively, feeling the syncopated rhythm of her fast-beating heart against his. Her head was stiflingly close to his now and with her hair flying in all directions, it seemed to Harry that someone had exploded a red firework in his face. But it was her eyes that struck him the most. He had never seen they were brown before, but now they were like seeing the brown of the churning sea in an angry storm. There was something in them just as deep and it scared Harry so much he almost dropped her.

But all that was in a moment so swift Harry almost managed to make himself believe he had made it all up. In the next, he became uncomfortably aware that he was holding his best friend's sister very tightly and that someone might be down on the ground watching them.

"Um, Ginny," he said, still panting. "You can take your broomstick now."

Ginny's eyes did not leave Harry's but she scooped her Cleansweep under her arm.

"Er, and you can let go of me," he added.

"Oh, right, sorry," said Ginny, as if breaking out of a spell and she took hold of her broomstick in both hands. Harry imagined she had suddenly started to blush but then a gust of wind swirled up and a tangle of hair obscured her face.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "I – I got carried away. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry. I did, too, Harry."

She smiled a little weakly and Harry had suddenly had the horrible feeling that she wasn't sitting very steadily on her broom. What had he been thinking letting her get to him like that? He'd probably scared her out of her wits right just before the game and after she'd been playing so well. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he should be begging Snape to give him Occlumency lessons.

"Maybe we'd better go back down again," suggested Harry. "Have a bit of a rest."

Harry was relieved when Ginny nodded and they glided the broomsticks down to the ground.

They stood on the windy pitch for a few minutes, not saying anything. Ginny looked as if she was deep in thought about something, then she took a very odd sort of breath, and lifted her head up and said:

"Hermione said you weren't going to the ball?"

Harry took an instinctive step backwards.

"Well, yeah, right. I – I – I suppose it just seems a little silly to me, that's all."

"Yeah, maybe." Ginny looked down again. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go with me. Just as friends," she added quickly. "I'm promise I'm not crushing on you again or anything."

Liar, Ginny thought to herself. That's exactly what you're doing.

Harry's mouth had suddenly gone oddly round.

"Wh – wh – who said anything about crushing?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged.

"Well," Harry coughed and then his eyes suddenly narrowed. "Are you worried about Corner? Is he – "

Ginny shook her head.

"I can handle Michael," she said. "I just thought it might be fun." She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible but she was uncomfortably aware that her heart was pounding so loud she was sure Harry could see it bulging out from her robes.

"Oh, well, er, I – I'm sorry, I'd really rather not," said Harry, a little gruffly. "I'm sorry," he added again.

Ginny shrugged.

"It's OK."

Ginny suddenly realized that although she had rehearsed things well in her mind up to this point, she no longer had planned what to say either way. This realization coincided with a horrible prickling sensation at the back of Ginny's eyes that rendered her incapable of speech in any case. Unfortunately, Harry seemed to have chosen this most inopportune moment to begin studying Ginny closely.

"Are you all right?" he asked, a little nervously.

Ginny nodded a little too enthusiastically and unseen to Harry dug her nails so hard into her palms that she almost bled. She was not going to start to become weak and dependent like that stupid little girl again.

"I have to go to class now, I'm afraid," she declared, a lone quiver the only thing that betrayed the false brightness in her voice.

Damn you, Potter, she thought. Why do you keep looking at me like that?

Harry frowned.

"A – all right," he said.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Ginny added quickly and instantly regretted that she'd showed she felt the need to explain herself. "It's only Hagrid but I probably shouldn't be late."

In truth, Ginny had begged Hagrid to let her skip the class which was by now nearing its end. Fortunately, Harry did not check his watch.

"All right," Harry said, looking as if he was still in a bit of a trance. "Well, th – thanks for practicing and don't worry about falling," he added, suddenly regaining a bit of his captain's authority. "Just focus on playing your best next week. You know you're faster than any of their chasers."

"I know and I'm not afraid of anything, Harry, don't forget that."

Without waiting for a reply, Ginny turned on her heel a little harder than she'd intended and marched off down the field toward the direction of Hagrid's hut.

I'm not afraid of you, either, Harry, she told herself. And I'm not finished with you yet.


	11. Dresses And Just Desserts

Chapter 11

Dresses And Just Desserts

Harry stood on the spot for some time, watching Ginny go. Why was it every time he was with her he seemed to get anxious about five different things at once? He swallowed as if doing so would force all those things down and started to walk down the field toward the exit himself.

He hadn't made it very far when he could make out another person entering the pitch from the exit. He could see Ginny ahead of him still half-walking, half-trotting out of the main door to the stadium. He watched as she passed on the oncoming figure; they seemed to share only the briefest of acknowledgments; Harry assumed it must not be someone she knew well.

But as the figure grew closer, Harry could see that he had been wrong. He could tell by the way she walked even before she could make out her unruly mop of brown hair that it was Hermione. She started running faster toward him when she had noticed that he'd seen her. But whatever could she want?

"Harry," she said panting as she arrived at his side. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Please tell me you don't have anything to do right now."

"W – well, no, I suppose not," said Harry a little cautiously.

There was an anxious and pleading look in Hermione's eyes that Harry had not often seen. The bossy confidence with which Hermione usually carried herself seemed absent from her body language. She shifted about from foot to foot, seeming as unsure how to stand as what to say.

"I need to buy a dress for the ball," Hermione explained. "I never got one because I didn't think I would be going and now the dance is tonight."

"You want to borrow the invisibility cloak?"

"No, Harry. I want to borrow you."

"Me?"

"I want to get a dress that Ron will really like. I – I – " Hermione hesitated for a moment. "You're his best friend. You'll know what he wants better than anyone else."

"But – but," Harry stammered. "I don't know anything about dresses. It's not the sort of thing Ron and I usually discuss. C – can't you go with your roommates? This is more the sort of thing that girls are good at, surely?"

Hermione put her hands to her hips and seemed to regain some of her usual attitude. "Please, Harry. I'd sooner go shopping with an army of mountain trolls. At least they wouldn't stand there and giggle all the time and try to read the future in my hem lines."

"Well - well Ginny, then. I'm sure she'd go with you."

Hermione shook her head. "It's her brother, remember? It's just, well, it's a little weird."

Harry opened his mouth to protest again but Hermione said:

"Please, it's really important."

Harry sighed and nodded.

* * *

Not long afterwards, Harry and Hermione were walking down to Hogsmeade very awkwardly and slowly, the invisibility cloak huddled over their heads.

"Remember, Harry," Hermione was saying as if going to Hogsmeade had been his idea. "We still want to stay where there are large crowds, just in case."

"I don't think Voldemort will plan anything today. He doesn't even know we're going out."

Hermione gasped suddenly and stopped walking, nearly causing Harry to trip over the front of the cloak.

"What?"

"But he might know, mightn't he? Isn't there a chance he can read your mind? Isn't that why Dumbledore wanted you to have Occlumency lessons?"

Harry frowned.

"I – I don't know, I suppose," he said. "But Dumbledore obviously doesn't think he can or he would have told me I still had to take them, wouldn't he? And besides, he already allowed me out to Hogsmeade once."

"Yes, but that was when he knew you would be there!"

Harry hesitated for a moment but then said very quickly:

"Don't see why it should make any difference, anyway. After all, Voldemort could get inside my head while I was still in the school last year. And even if he does know I'm going into Hogsmeade, he can't exactly get an army of Death Eaters ready in a few minutes to ambush me in broad daylight, can he?"

Harry started to walk forward again forcing Hermione to follow him so that she could still remain under the cover of the cloak.

"I don't know, Harry," she protested as Harry started to walk even faster. "There's a lot of things he can do. And, well, suppose Dumbledore is wrong this time."

Harry turned to look at her, a slightly jaded smile on his face.

"You think I think Dumbledore is always right, don't you?"

"Well," said Hermione anxiously. "You did say – "

"I know what I said," Harry interrupted, looking away from her. "But that's not what's making me keep walking to Hogsmeade with you."

Harry didn't elaborate any further.

They walked for a few minutes longer in silence. Harry could tell from long experience that Hermione was still not satisfied with his answers to her fears about Voldemort but his mind had already moved onto other worries. At first, like anything that took his mind of the Dark Lord, he was grateful for the distraction but the wasn't long before his thoughts were racing ahead of themselves to very uncomfortable conclusions, so much so that he knew he was going to have speak his fears out loud.

"Hermione."

"Yes?"

"Well – " Harry hesitated. He was not at all sure how to put this. Then Hermione said:

"Harry, we're friends. If you want to ask me about Ron, you can."

That made it easier. Harry said:

"Well, it's just, I couldn't help wondering. I mean, last night, he said you were 'the girl he liked.' And I really haven't talked to him since then, well, except for in the toilet and then I was just trying to get him to come out. And I know you want to go to the dance with him, but, I was just wondering – "

"Whether I like him, too?" Hermione finished.

Harry nodded.

"Oh, Harry. Of course I like him. Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really, Hermione." Harry suddenly felt a little annoyed. "You've been at each other's throats for years. I feel like I'm a referee sometimes."

"Harry, I'm really sorry," said Hermione and sounded it, too. "It's just – oh, don't you see? The closer we get, the more nervous I am. And then, well, it's just easier to get into a row. Then I can convince myself I hate him and I feel much more comfortable."

This did not make any sense at all to Harry. He wondered whether Ron would find it equally as confusing or, whether, on this point, he and Hermione would strangely agree. Harry wanted to ask how long this had been going on when Hermione said, as if reading his mind:

"If only he hadn't tried to cast that stupid spell."

"Sorry?" Harry was starting to wonder what else it was he didn't know.

"The spell on his rat," repeated Hermione, as if it would make everything obvious. "In the train? Our first year? He was so stupid… and so cute," Hermione finished, going red.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to this. It sounded like Hermione was telling him she had fostered a crush on Ron the day they first met. But could it really be? All these years they had run around together? All the rows? Were they all just the expressions of some kind of latent affection between the two? And what was he, then? Without knowing it, Hermione had touched on precisely the nub of what had been vexing him. Harry suddenly felt horribly queasy.

Hermione ploughed on. "I didn't really want to admit it, of course, to myself I mean. We – we were all friends."

So friendship counted for something. Harry felt a little better.

"And then, of course, I didn't always like him. Sometimes, I hated him. And sometimes I just wanted to be his friend. But then this year, the first night, the night we thought, well – "

"The night you thought I was dead," finished Harry.

"Yes, that night. I nearly said something really stupid to him. I just got carried away. And then I spent the rest of the term trying to cover it up. And then, of course, I really started to stay stupid things, things I didn't mean. Oh, Harry, I've been so horrible to him all term. I feel awful. I have to make it up him. I have to buy a really good dress."

It was Hermione's turn to move ahead faster having forgotten, no doubt temporarily, about her concerns for their safety. Now Harry had to struggle to keep up with her pace and make sure the invisibility cloak did not slip off his back. He had no time to untangle – or question – her logic.

After what had seemed like a never-ending march to Hogsmeade inside the cloak, Harry and Hermione finally found their way into Trans-figuration. They emerged out of the cloak right next to the dress section, causing a few murmurs. An elderly witch, who had been browsing through a display of hats on offer narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she saw their Hogwarts robes. Hermione glared back at her and she returned to the hats.

"Now," said Hermione, smiling. "I think I'll try this one." She pointed to a dress, "and this one." She pointed to another one. "And maybe this one." She picked up a fourth dress. "What do you think?" she asked, holding up a long peach-colored silk dress with a large pink stripe running down the center.

Harry shrugged. "It looks – fine."

Hermione looked back at the dress doubtfully and then went to look at several more.

Harry found himself yawning. His legs started to feel like led and his back began to ache. Standing in the clothing store suddenly seemed much more demanding than a long game of Quidditch. There seemed to be an endless supply of dresses and Hermione did not tire of looking at them. Finally, when Harry felt he could stand it no longer, Hermione announced that she was ready, and disappeared into the invisibility room in the center of the shop to try them on.

After what seemed to Harry like an interminable wait, Hermione emerged wearing a long turquoise dress with a white lace collar. She twirled around and smiled at Harry expectantly.

"Well?"

"It looks – nice."

Hermione frowned with deep disapproval. "Nice? What will Ron think?"

"Well, Hermione, I – I suppose he'll think it's nice, too."

Hermione groaned and disappeared back into the invisibility room. Harry could hear the mirror inside say "Oh, that suits you perfectly, dear." Hermione emerged a few minutes later wearing a long frilly lime green dress with bright purple stars, green and yellow striped socks, and a matching green and purple striped hat.

"What do you think?" she asked Harry. "It's very fashionable but…."

Harry shrugged.

"Yes, I thought so, too." Hermione frowned. "I'm afraid I'm still too influenced by Muggle tastes."

Hermione disappeared again and then emerged in a plain royal blue cotton dress. She looked quizzically at Harry.

"That's very nice, Hermione," said Harry, eager to leave the shop. "It really suits you," he added, echoing the words of the mirror.

His smile faded slightly as he was met with a questioning stare.

"Does Ron like blue?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I, er, I suppose."

Hermione held up her finger. "Or there's this one."

Harry groaned inwardly as Hermione disappeared once again before emerging again in a red cotton dress.

Hermione smiled. "Well?"

"Also very nice." Harry smiled weakly.

Hermione's smile faded. "Well, which is better, the blue one or the red one?"

"Well." Harry thought for a moment. "The collar of the red one is a little higher, I suppose, and then – "

"Harry." Hermione folded her arms. "It's the same dress. It's just a different color. Now, what does Ron like better – red or blue?"

"Honestly, Hermione, I don't think Ron will mind what color the dress is at all."

Hermione groaned.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I told you I wasn't very good at this."

Hermione sighed. "OK. Just one more."

Harry cursed his fate as Hermione disappeared into the invisibility room again and emerged in another royal blue dress. But even Harry did not fail to notice that this dress was very different from the first. It was made of some kind of silk-like fabric that glistened so brightly Harry was sure it was enchanted. More noticeably, this dress left Hermione's shoulders bare, hugged her body tightly, and ended just above her knees.

"Well?" said Hermione after a moment's pause.

Harry suddenly realized he had been staring at her.

"I – I – I, er, I definitely think Ron will like this one."

"Really?" Hermione seemed less sure. "It's all right, I suppose, but it's really a summer dress. I can't very well wear a summer dress in the autumn."

Harry shook his head with genuine certainty. "I definitely don't think Ron will care about that."

Hermione hesitated for a moment and then looked searchingly at Harry. "So Ron does prefer blue?"

Harry felt the top of his ears go pink. "Well, not really, Hermione, you see – "

Exactly what it was Harry had seen, he was never able to say for Hermione let out a sudden gasp, grabbed the invisibility cloak and wrapped herself and Harry inside it.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Look!" Hermione pointed out of the shop window.

Harry's eyes widened as he followed Hermione's gaze and saw Draco Malfoy wandering up the high street outside. He paused for a moment and looked through the windows of Trans-figuration with mild curiosity. He then looked furtively about the street for a moment before disappearing to the other side.

"What's he doing here?" Harry wanted to know.

"I don't know," replied Hermione. "We'd better not let him see us."

Harry watched as Malfoy stood right across from Trans-figuration. He glanced several times at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently on the cobblestone street.

"He's up to something," said Harry. "And I don't think it's buying dress robes for the ball."

Malfoy glanced at his watch again. A few more moments passed then he strode up the street back in the direction of Hogwarts.

"I think we should go after him," said Harry.

"Oh, but Harry, I'm still wearing this dress."

"Well, no one will notice, will they? I mean, we're under the invisibility cloak. You can come back and pay for it later."

Harry did not wait for a response. He moved forward, forcing Hermione to follow him. They moved awkwardly out of the shop, narrowing dodging a heavy-set witch who was barreling through the door, oblivious to their presence. They reached the street and Harry looked up and down. Then he spotted Malfoy, now quite some way ahead of them, heading back up the road toward the school.

"Oh, Harry. He's just going back," Hermione protested.

"I don't think so." Harry pushed forward. He and Hermione trotted up the main street, but they were slowed by trying to dodge all of the people and horse-less carriages who didn't see them there and trying to remain hidden underneath the cloak. At least Hermione's relatively short dress made her more mobile but Harry couldn't stop feeling that he was standing much closer to her now than he had on the way down.

They soon reached the end of town. Malfoy was still some way in front of them but he was much easier to spot now that there were fewer people around. At first, it seemed that Hermione had been right but then Malfoy looked around nervously again. Harry let out a small cry of vindication as he took a sharp left and trudged up the hill toward the Shrieking Shack.

Harry pulled a reluctant Hermione up the side of the hill in order to cut across ground and narrow the gap between them and Malfoy. Malfoy himself now moved ahead with much larger and more determined strides. It was soon clear that he was heading directly for the shack.

"Harry!"

Harry felt Hermione tug on his sleeve.

"No, Harry. We can't go in there! It's dangerous."

"We have to find out what he's doing."

Hermione could tell that Harry was not going to be satisfied until he had followed Malfoy into the shack but she also had no illusions about whom Malfoy was now working for. Part of her was pleased that Harry had forgotten for the moment that he'd planned to leave everything in Dumbledore's hands but another part of her wanted to remind him so that he would turn around and stop. She finally settled on a warning.

"Harry, this could be a trap!"

"No, Hermione. He doesn't even know we're here."

"Maybe he does. This isn't just Malfoy we're talking about now. Or have you forgotten about your little Quidditch practice in the forest?"

"Of course not, Hermione. Otherwise I wouldn't be bothering."

Hermione groaned as Harry tugged them both relentlessly toward the shack. With one last look around, Malfoy disappeared inside.

Moments later, Harry and Hermione reached the door. Malfoy had closed it behind him. Harry tried the door. It was locked. He took out his wand.

"Alohomora."

With a very slight click, the door glided open. Harry gingerly pushed it further, wincing as a slight creak pierced the air. He waited for a moment to see if there was any reaction from Malfoy but the air seemed thick with silence. He and Hermione crept forward slowly down the empty hallway of the shack. Harry felt his pulse race as he remembered when he last been in the shack, when he and Hermione had followed Ron as he had been dragged under the Whomping Willow on the school grounds down an underground passageway that had eventually led to Sirius' hiding place, at a time when Harry had still believed that his godfather had betrayed his parents to Voldemort. He remembered the creeping fear that had overcome him when Sirius had closed the door to the upstairs room behind him and stared at them with that dark, haunting look in his eyes. He wondered what waited for them now.

But there was no sound from the upstairs room this time. Hermione and Harry reached the end of the hallway and stood outside the room near the bottom of the stairs. Harry could see that the door was half open. He licked his dry lips nervously as he looked around. He looked at Hermione. He could see that she knew as he did that they could not take a chance on opening the door. Slowly, so as not to alert anyone who might be inside the room, they maneuvered themselves into a crouching position behind the door.

Through the small opening, they could see Malfoy standing alone in the room. He stood there for several minutes, continuing to glance at his watch. Then he began to pace around the room. Harry wasn't sure he had ever seen the normally composed Slytherin look so anxious. Every now and then Malfoy would venture closer to the door and he and Hermione would start to shuffle back. Harry felt sweat start to trickle down the front of his face. He knew that he and Hermione were tremendously vulnerable, sitting there. If Malfoy made a sudden movement to leave, he doubted that they could get out in time to avoid being noticed but it would be impossible to get out now. Looking at Hermione, he could see that she was no longer making any move to exit but continued to watch mesmerized as Malfoy paced up and down the room. With a sudden rush of fear, Harry wondered what they would do if someone else came in through the shack to meet Malfoy. He tore his glance away to look at the door from which they had just entered, ready to move back further into the corridor should it open.

Suddenly, Hermione let out a small gasp and tugged Harry's elbow.

Harry looked back into the shack to see that Draco Malfoy was no longer alone. Another wizard had apparated into the room.

The new wizard sniffed the moldy air disagreeably. "Not the best of spots but it will do."

It was Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

Severus Snape stood behind a tall oak tree near the northern edge of the Forbidden Forest. The scene in front of him would have terrified most wizards but Snape seemed to be watching it with a curious half-smile on his face.

Five very nasty looking goblins now stood around a much smaller, older-looking goblin with half-moon spectacles. The older goblin carried a small bag of gold which he looked at mournfully. One of the larger looking goblins, obviously the leader, thought Snape, moved in front of the others. He held out his hands and smiled a wicked smile. The four other goblins started to shove the smaller goblin roughly. With one last sad look at the bag of gold, the older goblin gave it over to the leader who snatched it greedily.

There was a sudden, unearthly howling sound from somewhere deep in the forest. The goblins looked up in fright. Then the leader and his four henchmen darted away from the small clearing in which they had been standing. The older goblin, now short his bag of gold, looked around nervously in all directions, before finally running as fast as his crooked legs could carry him toward a dark gap between two trees. Snape listened as the goblin disappeared further into the forest and then made his way purposefully out into the clearing.

He did not appear to show any surprise when, a few moments later, the trees parted and a familiar figure moved into the clearing to join him.

"Good morning, Severus," said Dumbledore.

Snape simply nodded in reply.

"You have the ingredients?"

Snape nodded again. He took out a small bag from his robes which looked to be filled with a supply of herbs. Dumbledore nodded and reached into his own pocket, producing a similar bag containing a grey powdery substance not unlike ash. The two wizards took a large step away from each other at almost precisely the same time. Dumbledore flicked his wand and a large cauldron full of water appeared in between them.

Without hesitation, Snape emptied the contents of his bag into the cauldron. Dumbledore followed almost immediately. There was silence between them for a moment, then Dumbledore said:

"I believe we can get started."

* * *

Lucius began to pace the room in the same way his son had only moments before. His jaw hardened, also in very much the same way, as he looked down at Draco.

The younger Malfoy was the first to speak. "You have further instructions for me, father?"

"I am only here to confirm that you have received the instructions we have sent to this point and that you appreciate the importance of the role you will play in our plan for tonight."

"I have, of course."

Lucius looked down his nose at his son like he was a rotting piece of cheese. "You say 'of course' but I doubt you realize how much more privileged your position would be if you had taken care to follow instructions in the past."

Draco stared back at his father defiantly.

"Shooting the dark mark into the sky. Twirling Potter around on his broomstick. You could have hardly drawn any more attention to yourself if you'd tried. Potter knows all about you. And Dumbledore. No one is fooled."

Draco moved himself closer to Lucius and looked him directly in the eye. "Do you have a point to make, father?"

Lucius held his ground. "Only that if you are to be of any use to us at all tonight, you'd better be extremely cautious. I doubt the Dark Lord will have any further use for you if you are not."

Draco was still not prepared to be intimidated. Perhaps once, when he was younger, but not anymore. "And what of your own position? You think you are the only one who tells me things?" Draco's mouth curled up in a shrewd smile. "I heard that the Dark Lord was a little displeased with you. In fact," he drawled on. "It seems to me like you've come down quite a bit in the world since he returned."

Lucius' mouth twisted into a savage-looking sneer. Blood rushed to his face as he moved forward and slapped Draco hard across the face.

"Damn your insolence!"

Draco stared back coldly at Lucius as he nursed his cheek, feeling more the pain of wounded pride than the sting of his father's blow.

"You are far too young to appreciate what things were like before the Dark Lord's rise to power," Lucius continued savagely, walking about the room. "If it weren't for him, our family would never have commanded the respect and fear it did even in the darkest days of his demise. And the Muggle-loving policies of fools like Dumbledore would have rid the world of the last remains of any pure blooded wizards by now."

"But he isn't a pure blood wizard, is he?" Draco stared coldly at his father.

For a moment, Harry thought that Lucius would strike his son again. But the elder Malfoy just stared at Draco and Harry saw all the color fade away from his face.

"If you go around saying things like that," Lucius hissed, "then you are very, very foolish indeed."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm saying it to you."

Neither Malfoy spoke a moment. They simply continued to stare at one another. Then Lucius said:

"Your contact – she is still in place?"

Draco smiled and nodded.

"And our other contact has been in touch with you?"

Draco nodded as his eyes widened. Unfortunately for Harry and Hermione, he said nothing more, but in his mind he remembered how Snape had grabbed hold of his hand the night he had been serving "detention" and taken him away from the potions room, and what he had shown him.

"Pray tell me that you have not told the one about the other."

Draco shook his head.

And for the first time, Lucius smiled.

"That may be the least foolhardy thing you have done all year. Mind you continue to keep that information to yourself. Divulge it to anyone and you become expendable." Lucius sneered again. "If you want to gain an edge, you do not do so by babbling inflammatory remarks. A true Slytherin never strikes until he holds every advantage and his opponent can only surrender."

And the two Malfoys smiled at each other in a way that only two Slytherins could.

"Since you have no further questions," finished Lucius, "I have a great many things to complete for the Dark Lord myself." His smiled ironically, readjusted his cloak, and disapparated.

Draco did not wait a single moment before making his way toward the exit. Harry and Hermione quickly shuffled away from the door. Fortunately for them, the noise they made was masked by the loud sound of Draco's angry footsteps on the creaking wood floor. He walked right past them and out of the front entrance to the shack.

Harry and Hermione waited for a moment before making their way cautiously toward the shack's entrance. They quietly opened the door and peeked out to see Malfoy disappearing down the hill. They watched him reach the road and make a sharp turn back toward the school. They waited until he was completely out of sight before opening the door more fully and stepping outside themselves.

Neither said anything until they reached the bottom of the hill and Harry made a sharp right turn back to Trans-figuration.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione finally said, before they would pass in earshot of Lord Ravenhurst. "This is awful. They're planning something tonight. We've got to get you out of here! We've got to have the ball cancelled. It must – "

Harry stopped walking and turned around to face Hermione.

"No."

"What?"

"No, we're not going to have anything cancelled. You are going to the ball with Ron."

"Oh, but Harry, be reasonable! Think about what we've just learned. Voldemort's planning something for tonight. It must be an attack! And – and the way Lucius and Malfoy went on it sounded like Hogwarts is crawling with his spies!"

"So what?" Harry replied, his lips set in a stubborn thin line. "I've known that since the beginning of the year. Dumbledore told me in his office. He also said that Voldemort always used fear to divide people, that he played on the fact that no one ever knew who they could trust. And how are we supposed to protect against this plan anyway? We don't even know what it is! I have to stick with what Dumbledore told me. I have to stay in the castle and beyond that, I have to live my life and my friends theirs. Wasn't it you who told me that, Hermione?"

"But – but this is different! At least tell Snape," Hermione added quickly, before Harry could respond.

"No."

"Harry!"

"I don't trust him."

Especially not after what he did to Sirius, Harry thought, and the unspoken conclusion to his thoughts seemed to hang in the air between the two friends.

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione fervently. "I know he's been rotten to you, to all of us, but – but remember what Dumbledore said! We're all on the same side now!"

"No. I'm sorry. I don't trust him. And I never will. Do you really trust him, Hermione? After all he's done?"

Hermione didn't reply. She just bit her lip.

"We've got to tell someone, Harry. After all, Lucius Malfoy is an escaped convict. He should be back in prison!"

"Dumbledore knows he escaped, anyway, and so does the Ministry! And he just disapparated. How are we supposed to know where he's got to now?"

Hermione anxiously tried to think of some way to make Harry see reason.

"Tell Dumbledore," she finally said. "Just tell him. Would that be so difficult?"

Harry hesitated.

"Harry," Hermione started again. "You told us you were going to – "

Harry sighed loudly.

"I'll send an owl to Dumbledore, all right? Then if he thinks we need to cancel the ball and send every student and teacher out to guard the castle, I won't say otherwise."

Hermione nodded slowly. She still wasn't completely happy with the situation but since Harry had agreed to her last compromise, she felt she had to keep walking with him back into Trans-figuration. Harry found himself breathing a small sigh of relief when she changed back into her familiar robes. With great reluctance, Hermione purchased the dress and the two Gryffindors went back under the invisibility cloak and returned to school.

Lunch had already started when they arrived. Ron was a little edgy when he hadn't been able to find them. Harry exchanged brief greetings with his friend and left quickly for the owlery, leaving Hermione to explain. Ron still seemed a little uncomfortable about being left alone with Hermione for lunch but his thoughts of their relationship were quickly put to the side as the entire conversation focused on Hermione's account of what she and Harry had heard that morning.

Finally, Harry returned to join them, ate quickly and then the three of them made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

Dumbledore and Snape sat around a now full cauldron. They watched as the cocktail inside simmered and wisps of smoke curled off the top like the morning mist from a lake. Every few minutes, Dumbledore gently stirred the mixture with a long wooden pole.

This monotony was unexpectedly broken when Hedwig landed gracefully on the edge of the cauldron with an envelope in her beak. Snape shooed her away from the side. She landed on the ground and gave the acting headmaster a reproachful hoot before she hopped over to Dumbledore, bowed politely, and dropped the letter in his lap.

Snape showed little reaction as Dumbledore opened the envelope and read it to himself, raising an occasional eyebrow and sighing as he finished it. He began to take some owl treats out of his pocket and feed them to Hedwig. He then sighed wearily and handed the letter to Snape.

Snape read the letter carefully to himself several times and then let out an almost imperceptible snort.

"I told you it would be impossible to keep anything from Potter and his friends. It will be nothing short of a miracle if they do not now try to start their own investigation. Interesting that he didn't tell me. I suppose he still doesn't trust me."

Dumbledore did not respond. Instead, he reached methodically into the folds of his cloak and drew out his wand. He flicked it quickly and a blank parchment apparated and then unrolled in front of him. Snape took hold of the long pole and peered into the mixture once more, gently stirring it and appearing to pay little attention to Dumbledore as he used his wand to write in the air words that immediately etched themselves onto the parchment. He finished by signing his name with a flourish, drew a final loop with his wand in the air that caused the parchment to roll itself shut, a Hogwarts seal crested on top. He gave Hedwig a grandfatherly smile before gently tickling her chin and attaching the parchment to her leg. He made a waving motion with her hand and she flew quickly away.

Several more minutes passed before Snape finally said:

"What did you tell him, may I ask?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Naturally, that we are aware of what is happening, that we have everything under control, and he that should do nothing."

"Do you think he will really listen to you?" Snape asked idly.

Dumbledore sighed slightly more loudly this time and his eyes looked strangely sad.

"Yes, Severus. I believe he will."

If Snape thought Dumbledore's reaction was strange, he did not show it. Another short time passed before he got slowly to his feet and adjusted his robes.

"I trust everything is in order then," he said.

Dumbledore nodded. "A headmaster has many engagements," he said a little wistfully. "Good luck, Severus."

Snape nodded.

"Headmaster," he said and disapparated.

* * *

Nothing much was accomplished in either Defense Against the Dark Arts or Potions that afternoon. Professor Nevins fretted a great deal about the decision to hold the ball in mid-week, even if it was the fifth of November. Professor Dibble, after arriving so late for class the Gryffindors wondered whether they should simply give up on her, tried to join into the spirit of the occasion by teaching the class a potion that would burst into a bright purple flame after a spell was cast. This time, the spell worked very well when Professor Dibble demonstrated it, earning appreciative exclamations from the students, but then she accidentally substituted the wrong ingredient for the students' own concoctions and their potions evaporated instead.

Dinner was held earlier that evening so that the Great Hall could be converted into a concert hall and dance floor for the ball. Having already exhausted the topic of Harry and Hermione's encounter with the Malfoys earlier in the day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in an awkward silence during much of the meal. Harry noticed that Ron was just picking at his food.

As they were finishing, Ron looked around nervously. Teams of house elves were already dismantling vacant tables. Another group of house elves was using magic to maneuver several large risers into position.

"What are those for?" Ron wondered. "I thought this was going to be a dance." He looked back hopefully at Harry and Hermione.

"It is a dance," replied Hermione. "For fourth years and up. The first through third years will be sitting in the risers. Professor Binns thought it would be educational."

Ron suddenly looked horrified. "You mean a bunch of little kids are going to watch us dance?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The whole show will be in darkness except for small aisle lanterns where the audience will sit. No one will be able to see the dance floor. The orchestra will glow in the dark, of course."

"You seem very well informed," noted Harry.

"Well, I had to be, didn't I?" Hermione suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. "Of course, that's all different now," she added quietly and slowly moved her chair back. "If you'll both excuse me, I have to go and change." She studiously avoided making eye contact with Ron as she left the table and walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ron looked at his watch, then gulped. Hermione had left just as early as she had during the Yule Ball two years before. But this time her date was not the famous Viktor Krum. It was him.

"H – Harry," he said, suddenly looking green again. "Maybe Hermione's right. I – I don't think it's safe for us to have the ball. M – maybe both of us should just go and hide with you somewhere… for a very long time."

"No, Ron," said Harry steadily. "You are going to the ball with Hermione and you are going to enjoy it. Just promise me one thing," he added.

Ron nodded.

Harry leaned in closer to his friend. "I spent all morning with her picking out that bloody dress. Please don't forget to say how nice she looks as soon as you see her in it. I for one do not want to have to live with the consequences for the rest of the year if you don't."

Ron gulped again.

Both Harry and Ron got up from their chairs. Ron watched nervously as a team of house elves moved in quickly to disassemble their table.

So absorbed were they in what was to come that neither noticed a steady stream of small spiders entering the castle from a nearby window.

* * *

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, the ground was full of the sounds of eight-legged arachnids running away in fear from the dark cloaked figure that now sat near the center of their domain.

Lord Voldemort was bending over a cauldron, slowly stirring a mixture that seemed very similar to the one Dumbledore and Snape had nurtured in another part of the woods. He took very little notice of the spiders' frantic exodus. He was by now used to the effect that he had on animals. It was fortunate that humans were rarely as intelligent.

He did not look up as he heard the soft measured footsteps of his most faithful servant approach.

"You have news?" he finally asked.

"Everything seems in place at the school."

"The girl?"

Snape paused for a moment. "I admit that at the moment she eludes me. But she can't have left the school."

Voldemort let out an almost inaudible sound that was very similar to a cat's purring. "Ensure that she has not."

"Very well."

"Dumbledore?"

"His counter-potion will not be effective. Unbeknownst to him, it is missing a very important ingredient."

"He still trusts you? He still believes you're spying for him?"

Snape smiled chillingly. "Does he have a choice?"

Voldemort looked up at Snape and his face widened into a hideous grin. He chuckled softly. Then his chuckle grew louder and soon the forest was filled with the hideous sound of Voldemort's high-pitched laughter reaching its cruel crescendo. It was, Snape reflected, very much like the sound of a snake swallowing its victim whole.

* * *

Harry finished adjusting Ron's tie.

"What if I slip and fall on the dance floor? What if I spill Butterbeer all down the front of her dress?"

Harry sighed. These were just two of the most recent nightmare scenarios Ron had offered ever since Hermione had left to change for the ball.

"No, Ron," he replied for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Nothing like that will happen. Everything will be just fine." He motioned toward the door that led from their dormitory to the common room.

Ron swallowed nervously and walked toward the exit like an errant sailor striding the plank to his murky doom.

He turned back about halfway. "I don't think my tie is really straight after all. I think we'd better – "

Harry responded by shoving Ron back out in the direction of the door.

Following several more attempts by Ron to remain inside their room, he and Harry finally reached the common room only to hear from Lavender that Hermione was still getting herself ready.

Ron tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. Harry, however, found his attention drawn away when Neville, wearing a surprisingly well-pressed white shirt, black robes, and a bow tie not unlike Ron's drifted past them. Harry was very surprised at how good Neville looked. He was much less round than he used to be. Of course, he still looked as if he was about to faint from fright and Harry strongly suspected that his recent weight loss was due to an inability to eat in the days immediately preceding the ball.

Harry was about to offer an encouraging greeting when there was a loud knock on the main door to the common room accompanied by what sounded like the alarmed screams of the Fat Lady.

Shooting a terrified glance at Harry and Ron, whose attention had finally been diverted away from the foot of the steps to the girls' dormitories, Neville walked slowly toward the portrait hole. It slid open causing the Fat Lady to scream even more loudly.

Neville, to his credit, did not scream but jumped backward, nearly losing his balance as a fully-grown lion entered the room wearing a long black evening dress, a necklace of Butterbeer caps, and Luna Lovegood's large pointed hat which now seemed to be giggling to itself. The lion gave a mighty roar which resonated throughout the whole common room. The Fat Lady could be heard screaming something about letting wild animals into Gryffindor Tower and Neville fell flat on his back.

To which the lion, to no one's real surprise, turned into Luna.

"Oh, dear, are you all right?" she asked, pulling a wincing Neville up from the floor.

"F – fine," he declared, smiling a little weakly.

"It's not a real transfiguration," she declared, turning around to notice Harry and Ron standing nearby. "Just a spell to make you think you're seeing one. Did I hurt you, dear?" she asked, taking Neville's hand gently in hers. "I just wanted to show my support for your house, dear, since I was coming into your common room, only your door portrait didn't quite seem to understand. I also wanted to show how hungry I was for you tonight, dear." She smiled engagingly.

"I – I – it's all right," said Neville, immediately groaning in pain and clutching his lower back.

Harry noticed that Luna's dress was rather plain and modest by her standards. In fact the whole outfit would have seemed almost normal were it not for a thick pair of goggles which covered her eyes.

"Er, Luna," he said, "Wh – what exactly are those glasses for?"

"They're some kind of Muggle toy: night vision goggles. Father and I found a pair near the Crumple-Horned Snorkack's cave over the summer. We think they must have stolen them. Father told me that ghosts don't glow so brightly for the first few hundred years so I thought I could use them to see the orchestra better."

"Th – they're very pretty, Luna," said Neville.

"Thank you, dear." Luna smiled at him reassuringly again. "And you look very nice, too, even though you still have that dinner napkin tied around your neck. Come on."

Luna grabbed Neville by the arm and dragged him out of the portrait hole, accompanied by the cursing of the Fat Lady. Neville shot a terrified glance back at his two roommates to which Harry and Ron gave an encouraging thumbs up. Harry noticed as they walked out that Luna's shoes were making a very loud clacking noise but he restrained himself from commenting on it.

So engrossed were Ron and Harry in following Neville and Luna leave that they had to be brought back to attention by the sound of a throat being cleared. They turned around to see Hermione standing at the top of the steps outside the girls' dormitories. Her hair was twirled back into a bun like the one she had worn to the Yule Ball two years before. A few errant curls cascaded down her bare shoulders, ending just above the dress she had bought with Harry that morning. A pair of matching blue tights covered her ankles.

Ron's mouth widened into a broad grin as soon as he saw her. "Harry." He turned to his friend. "Nice choice."

But Harry did not return his smile. Instead, he pointed an anxious thumb in Hermione's direction.

"Oh, right." Ron quickly looked back up at Hermione. "You look beautiful, Hermione."

"Thanks." Hermione replied with unusual shyness. She reached the bottom of the stairs and rested her hand briefly on Ron's shoulder. "You look very nice, too, Ron."

Hermione's smile faded as she looked out in the direction of the portrait hole.

"I take it that was Luna. I recognized the roar. What was she wearing this time?"

"She's dressed quite plainly, actually," replied Harry. "At least by her standards."

"Yeah," Ron put in, still ogling Hermione. "In fact, she's not wearing as little as – "

Harry elbowed him hard in the ribs but Hermione did not seem to notice. She started smiling again and walked down the stairs to Ron. Their eyes seemed to lock for just a brief moment but then Hermione turned to Harry and frowned.

"Oh, Harry, are you sure you won't go, even just to sit and watch?"

"No," insisted Harry, his lips tightening.

"Oh, but Harry, it's so dangerous. You're all alone up here. Voldemort could just come in and – "

"No, Hermione. Read this." He reached into his pocket and took out Dumbledore's reply which Hedwig had delivered to him that afternoon.

Hermione read the letter, her brow furrowed in concentration. Ron looked over her shoulder.

Hermione still looked anxious. "I don't know, Harry."

"Look, just come with us, mate," suggested Ron. "It can't be all that bad."

"I'd get in the way. You both know that."

"No, Harry, really you wouldn't," protested Hermione.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione like they part of a vast conspiracy against him. His breathing suddenly became heavier and Hermione distinctly started to notice several veins bulge on his neck.

Both Ron and Hermione took a step backwards.

But Harry did not shout at them this time. He merely said, with a quiet conviction that surprised even him.

"You don't know what it's like. He's taken so much from me. My parents. My friend. My godfather. And now he's not going to take away my best friends' first date. It all stops here."

There was a long silence as the trio of friends stared at each other. Finally, Harry said:

"And now you, Ron, take Hermione's hand. And both of you go to the ball."

Ron reluctantly did as he was told and was surprised at the eagerness with which Hermione reciprocated. They turned around and went out of the portrait hole together. They did not look back.

Harry suddenly found himself panting for breath as he watched them go. He then watched as Lavender's Hufflepuff date arrived and they, too, left. Finally, Harry was alone. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat down exhausted on one of the common room chairs. He thought about doing some school work. He hadn't really finished a parchment that was due for Transfiguration the next day. But he was afraid he would start to feel sorry for himself. He decided a little broomstick maintenance was in order. Not that his new Firebolt really needed the work but he knew that it would calm him down.

He returned to his dormitory and retrieved his Broomstick Servicing Kit and his Firebolt. He came back down to the common room, planning to sprawl his equipment over one of the large tables, but he was surprised to find that the room was no longer empty. At the table where he and Ron normally played wizard chess sat a short witch. The witch was bent down over a book so that Harry could only see her hair. But those curled crimson locks were unmistakable.

It was Ginny.


	12. Stirring The Potion

Chapter 12

Stirring The Potion

Harry rested his broomstick down on top of the table in front of where Ginny was sitting. She put her book down slowly and looked back up at him. She did not look surprised.

Harry sat down cautiously.

"Not going to the ball?" he said neutrally.

Ginny shook her head.

Their eyes locked for a few moments, each seeming to want the other to speak first, then Harry mumbled:

"Well, don't let me stop you from reading."

Ginny reluctantly picked up her book again and pretended to read. Harry opened his Broomstick Servicing Kit and began to polish the handle of his Firebolt. It wasn't more than one or two minutes, however, before he sighed, replaced the polisher, and put it back in its case. Ginny looked up curiously as Harry left the table without comment and walked back up the stairs to his dormitory. A few minutes later, he came back into the common room, free of any of his belongings, sat back down at the wizard chess table, folded his arms, and looked directly across at Ginny.

"You're very persistent, aren't you?" he said.

Ginny immediately put her book down and looked up at Harry, her eyes wide but strangely expressionless.

"I'm sorry?" she said blankly.

"Why aren't you going to the ball, Ginny?"

Ginny took a deep breath. A dozen lies, all of them quite believable found their way into her head at once: she had far too much work to do; this was her O.W.L. year after all; she didn't want to deal with Michael; the Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra wasn't her cup of tea; she was afraid Neville would ask her to dance and step on her toe again. Ginny had never liked to lie as a child but in a house full of older brothers, she had quickly learned to protect herself. And she had become very good at it. But Ginny also knew that if she didn't want her relationship with Harry to be a lie, she had better start with the truth now.

"I thought you might be lonely, Harry," she said, a little awkwardly. "I wanted to stay here with you."

Ginny studied Harry's face nervously. Much as she feared, his cheeks began to flush and his posture stiffened. He looked about to make some sort of defensive excuse or rebuke that he wanted to be left alone but before he could open his mouth, Ginny spoke again.

"If you don't want me to be here, Harry, I can leave or I can just study or something. I don't want to bother you."

This time, Ginny couldn't quite bring herself to look up at Harry and she settled for studying the table top.

Harry immediately felt the resentment that had been building up inside him disappear like air quickly leaving a balloon replaced a horrible feeling of guilt. Wasn't this what he had promised to himself during those lonely days at the Dursleys last summer? That he wouldn't make his friends want to run away from him anymore? And didn't Ginny deserve to be his friend? Wasn't she the one who had helped him have his last conversation with Sirius? Wasn't she the only one who'd had the courage to write in her letters about what had really been ailing him? By all rights, Ginny should have given up on his friendship by now but here she was still trying to give him another chance. And without even thinking why, he'd been determined not to let her.

Harry thought all of these things before he realized that Ginny was still staring down at the table top waiting his answer.

"You'd never – I – I mean, you're not bothering me, Ginny."

It wasn't the most heartfelt expression of friendship but it was the best Harry could bring himself to say at the moment. Ginny looked up from the table cautiously.

"J – Just don't talk about Voldemort, okay?" Harry added quickly. "Or how much danger I'm in or anything."

"Oh, Harry," said Ginny earnestly. "Whatever makes you think I'd want to talk about that?"

Harry suddenly felt very stupid again.

"I – I don't know," he said brusquely.

Is that what Ron and Hermione would have talked to you about, Ginny wondered, but she forced herself to keep quiet.

"S – so," said Harry, trying on a cautious smile. "What should we do then? I – I can help you with your O. if you'd like?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Let's play a game."

"A game?" Harry's smile faded.

"You and Ron play Wizard Chess all the time, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but – "

"This will be just as fun," declared Ginny, trying to sound less nervous than she felt.

"Well," said Harry, clearly still remorseful for his disdainful attitude toward her several minutes before. "OK, then."

Ginny stood up. "I'll go and fetch it." She stood up to walk out to her room and then stopped after a few paces. "Stay here, all right?" she said.

Harry nodded.

* * *

Voldemort smiled cruelly as he watched the potion in the cauldron beside him simmer slowly. Nagini had returned. She had managed to consume a few spiders before the rest of them had fled and now she was lying curled up in an overfed stupor. Voldemort was not concerned. He would need her milk for the final ingredient but there was still some time left yet.

* * *

Ron led Hermione down the long staircase outside the main entrance to the school and into the Great Hall. They hadn't said a word to each other since leaving Gryffindor Tower. As they approached the door, Ron realized that it wouldn't be so easy to talk to Hermione alone once they were inside.

"Harry was right, you know," he said.

Hermione looked back into his eyes. "I know."

"I – I hope we can, well, enjoy ourselves tonight."

Hermione smiled. "We will. Ron?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to hold my hand quite so tightly. I won't run away, I promise."

"Oh. Right." Ron let go of Hermione's hand and looked down at his own. It was glistening with sweat. He smiled nervously at Hermione and gestured for her to walk into the hall ahead of him.

The hall was dark except for the lights of the aisle risers where the first, second, and third years were already sitting along with most of the teachers. Even the enchanted ceiling was black from the cloudy night outside. Hermione and Ron made their way to a series of round tables in front of the dance floor where the older students were sitting. They found two seats at a table for four next to Luna and Neville. Ron could see that Neville's face was still so white he looked like he belonged in the orchestra.

"How are they going to have a fireworks display in here?" Ron wondered.

Ron couldn't see very well in the dark but he could tell that Hermione was smiling one of her omniscient smiles.

"You'll see," she said.

They did not have to wait long. There were a few sudden gasps as a luminescent Binns floated up from the floor and stood in the middle of the dance floor.

"Distinguished professors, students, and fellow ghosts, good evening," he said, making little effort to vary from his usual monotone. "Tonight we have a special treat for you all," he went on in a tone that suggested it was anything but. "You have all been learning about the wizard role in the gunpowder plot. In 1603, Henrietta Handsdowne - "

Ron quickly found his attention slipping away as Binns droned on about the details of the gunpowder plot and wizard-Muggle relations in the early seventeenth century for what seemed like a good half hour. Looking around, Ron became aware of restless fidgeting nearby. Two second-year Slytherins had started to play Exploding Snap in the risers and had to be silenced by a particularly irate-looking Snape. Binns hadn't seemed to notice, however, and continued to drawl on. Finally, Ron was aware that he had stopped talking and was looking up expectantly at the risers where the staff was sitting.

Professor Flitwick prodded Professor McGonagall, who had fallen asleep in her chair. Looking around in surprise, her eyes fell on Binns and she quickly got up and walked with Flitwick to the far wall. Both of them took out their wands and said:

"Aparecium Bonfire!"

An excited murmur ran throughout the hall as the far wall seemed to disappear and was replaced with a full view of the Hogwarts grounds outside just as the ceiling was enchanted to show the night's sky. Ron's eyes went wide in surprise as he saw an enormous tower of logs piled outside topped with a large straw effigy. Filch stood in front of the pile. Ron felt Hermione tense beside him as they could see Filch shouting at a team of nervous-looking house elves. He waved the house elves around in a row. Ron could see him holding up one finger, then two, and then three. The house elves made a swishing motion with their hands and the hall was suddenly ablaze in light as the bonfire burst into flame. The audience clapped appreciatively.

But the show was not yet over. Filch directed another team of house elves to an open space just to the left of the bonfire. Two house-elves carried a large dark cylindrical object to an open spot on the ground. Evidently, they had put it in the wrong place for Filch immediately started waving his arms up and down angrily. Looking frightened, the two house-elves then replaced the object into what now seemed like the correct location. One house-elf held a very large looking wand in both hands and pointed it at the ground while the other two put their hands over their large ears.

The hall was soon filled with gasps and shouts of approval as a bright red firecracker volleyed into the air and exploded high above the school in the shape of the Hogwarts crest. Soon several other firecrackers were launched and exploded into the shapes of the each of the four Hogwarts houses. The light from the fireworks bled seamlessly up from the ground into the sky as enchanted wall met enchanted ceiling. It seemed just like they were sitting outside except that it still felt warm and cozy. Ron grinned approvingly but his grin faded when he looked over to Hermione and saw that she was not smiling at all but had folded her arms across her chest in disapproval.

"Slave labor," she muttered.

Ron frowned.

After several minutes, the fireworks show ended and the audience clapped and whistled. Binns stood in the center of the room once again.

"And now wizards, witches, and ghosts: I present to you Miss Henrietta Handsdowne and the Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra." Binns' face broke into a ghastly-looking grin that looked like it had been pasted on his face.

The students and teachers clapped politely as the orchestra emerged from the floor in the same manner as Binns. The ghosts were all men, dressed in frilly lace robes and long wigs. Having already attended one ghost performance his second year, Ron was a little anxious about what the orchestra would play and how they would sound. He was relieved to see they carried somewhat normal looking instruments, which evidently belonged to the period of time they had been alive.

They were soon joined by a tall watch in long white frilly robes and an enormous pointed hat which covered what had once been curly blond locks. Hermione was surprised at how young and beautiful she looked and wondered how she had died. She tried to avoid noticing how Binns stood to one side, his face still shriveled into an emaciated smile, watching her in adoration. She forced herself to remember that once, when he was still alive, Binns had been just as young as Henrietta was.

The orchestra struck up a tune. It full of high, strange cords and sounded almost unearthly which, Ron reflected, it probably was. Both he and Hermione jumped as Henrietta Handsdowne suddenly broke with gusto into a forceful melody. But at least it seemed in tune.

Ron watched as several couples started to move out onto the dance floor. He looked nervously at Hermione but was relieved to find she no longer looked angry.

He tried to ask her to dance but got stuck on the letter "d" in "do."

"Oh, Ron." She cut him off with a smile. "I'd love to dance."

"I - I promise not to hold your hand too tightly this time."

"I'm sure you won't." Hermione let Ron lead her out onto the dance floor. Ron half-expected the other couples to stop and start looking at them but nothing of the sort occurred. They moved around the floor, trying hard to judge the rhythm of the unusual piece the orchestra was playing. But neither had stepped on the others' toe yet.

"You dance well," Ron said to Hermione.

"Thanks." There was that shy smile again Ron wasn't used to seeing. "I took a lot of lessons when I was a child. I think my parents thought I was going to be a ballerina for a time. But then I sort of lost interest."

"I never knew that."

"You never asked." Hermione smiled again.

There was something about the way Hermione looked at him that could make him feel as tight as a knot one moment and all his fears and tensions melt away the next. But this time it seemed to have the second effect. Ron started to feel he really was going to enjoy the dance with Hermione.

* * *

A miniature version of Professor Flitwick stood on the top of a large pile of squares which now sat on top of the table where Harry and Ginny were sitting.

The Flitwick figure chuckled approvingly. "Excellent, Miss Weasley," he squeaked. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Harry and Ginny giggled as Flitwick disappeared.

The game, which was called Spellmaster, consisted of several rows of square blocks leading up a pyramid. The object of the game, Ginny had explained, was to advance to the top of the tower before the other player. The squares were all different colors and each color represented a different category: there was Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions but also Muggles, Quidditch, and Famous Witches and Wizards. The tricky part of the game was to avoid categories you weren't very good at while still moving to the top. If you answered a question correctly, you could move to a square on the next level. You could move to the square directly or diagonally above your piece, depending on the category you wanted to answer. Then you were asked another question. If you answered a question wrong, you had to move back one level.

"Where are the playing pieces?" asked Harry.

"Oh." Ginny flicked her wand and a miniature Ginny appeared on her side of the board, which looked just like the real Ginny except that it was proportionally much taller. A miniature Harry, dressed in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, appeared on Harry's side.

"You have a 'Harry' figure?" asked Harry in disbelief. "Please don't tell me it came with the game."

"No, no, I, er, I added some people I knew to the board – quite a lot of them." Ginny smiled weakly and discreetly flicked her wand from under her side of the table so that the Harry figure no longer gazed longingly at its partner across the board. She was glad Harry hadn't seen the Cho Chang figure.

"Well, shall we get started?" she asked.

"All right."

Ginny let Harry go first. He used his wand to guide his piece to a Quidditch square. Madam Hooch appeared and asked a question about the Hungary-England World Cup final of 1972 which Harry answered correctly. The three spaces above his piece were all Potions so he was forced to take a question from that category. Snape then appeared and asked about the medicinal properties of wolfsbane. Harry did not know the answer.

The miniature Snape frowned at the Harry figure. "Detention, Potter," it declared and shoved the Harry figure back down to the row below.

Harry thought he would win quite easily since he was a year ahead of Ginny, had read all there was to read about Quidditch, and had grown up with Muggles. But Ginny seemed to know quite a lot of the answers already and did just as well on Muggle studies (represented by an Arthur Weasley figure) as Harry did. The first game seemed to end very quickly with Ginny at the top of pyramid.

Harry frowned at Ginny's triumphant looking figure.

"Another game?" he asked.

"All right." Ginny smiled. She could see she was finally starting to take Harry's mind off things and make him relax a bit. Things were going much better than even she had hoped for.

But Ginny's smile suddenly faded as she heard the portrait outside the common room door move open. Her face fell further when the very last people in the world she wanted to see at that moment walked into the room.

But Harry grinned. "Fred! George!" he exclaimed. "What are you two doing here?"

"Didn't want you to have all the fun, did we?" replied Fred.

"We've come for the ball, of course," added George.

Ginny groaned inwardly. She felt certain that Fred and George would not leave without making some sort of remark about her and Harry sitting alone together.

"Don't let us stop you." She looked up pleadingly at her twin brothers.

But neither Fred nor George seemed particularly anxious to leave. They talked with Harry for a while about the prospects for the Quidditch team that year. Then Harry asked about the joke shop.

"Excellent!" replied George, with enthusiasm.

"Sales are wicked fast," added Fred. "We're thinking of adding a store in Hogsmeade."

"Really?" asked Harry.

Please don't, thought Ginny.

"And we've got loads of new items," said George.

"For example." Before Harry or Ginny knew what was happening, Fred had taken a wand out of his pocket, pointed it at Ginny and cried:

"Stupefy!"

Ginny gasped as a beam flashed out of Fred's wand and hit her in the chest. Harry watched in shock as Ginny began to breathe heavily and hold her chest at the point where the wand had struck. After a few moments, however, her breathing returned to normal as she realized the spell had no effect.

"Wicked, isn't it?" asked Fred.

"Much more realistic than our old joke wands," added George.

But Harry's smile had vanished. "I don't think that was very funny," he said.

"It's all right, Harry," replied Fred. "Ginny's used to us by now, aren't you, Gin?"

"Perhaps you should be getting along to the ball," replied Ginny frostily, trying to regain her composure. "I'm afraid it might have already started without you."

Ginny looked at Harry anxiously. She wondered whether he would contradict her but he just sat there looking at the twins with a stern expression on his face.

George looked at Harry's face and his own smile faded quickly. "Er, well, OK, perhaps we'd better?" He looked at his brother.

"Yeah." Fred managed a smile. "Well, see you later, Harry, Ginny." He tried not to notice the cold stares on the faces of the two younger Gryffindors as he and George walked out of the common room and down to the dance.

Harry turned back to look at Ginny as soon as they had left.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Harry," Ginny insisted, looking a little angry. "It wasn't a real spell as they said. And they'll be getting exactly what they deserve when they least expect it. And not with a joke wand, either," she finished a little darkly.

Harry licked his lips.

"You know, you're a little scary with that Bat-Bogey Hex sometimes."

Ginny looked up at him and smiled suddenly.

"You're not telling me that the Boy Who Lived is afraid of a little girl and her wand?"

"I – I didn't say I was afraid."

"I'd never use it on you, Harry, you know that."

Harry shook his head. "I've probably deserved it once or twice."

"No, Harry. Compared to Fred and George, you're a saint, believe me. Just don't let it get to your head," she added quickly.

"I won't."

Ginny rolled her eyes slightly. "That I can believe," she muttered. "Shall we go on?"

Harry nodded.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were well into their fourth dance. The music hadn't improved very much but Ron didn't seem to notice. Hermione hadn't had the heart to suggest she was tired. Ron seemed to ask her before every dance, each time getting a little better at saying it.

Hermione suddenly trembled as a wave of cold air rushed through her. She looked around to see Moaning Myrtle and the Bloody Baron weaving and cutting through the pairs of solid couples. They eventually wheeled back around and passed in front of Ron and Hermione.

"Hello, Myrtle," said Hermione, a little anxiously. "You look very nice tonight."

In truth, Myrtle looked exactly as she always did. Hermione supposed ghosts couldn't really change their clothes.

"Oh, thank you, Hermione." Myrtle smiled and hovered next to the Bloody Baron. "And you look much less like a chipmunk than usual."

Ron tried very hard not to laugh.

"I'll fly through again later," Myrtle promised, beaming from ear to ear as the Bloody Baron led her back through the crowd, his gaunt face as impassive as ever.

"That's the first time I've seen her go half a minute without bawling her eyes out," remarked Ron.

"She has a date," replied Hermione, turning back to face him.

Ron smiled for a moment but then his face fell abruptly.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

Ron responded by steering Hermione roughly into the far corner of the dance floor.

"Ron, where are we going? What's going on?"

"Two people I really don't want to see right now."

But Hermione, who had now been swung around to face the other direction, could see out of the corner of her eye that Ron was too late. She had little doubt that Ron had meant Fred and George as soon as she spotted them. She had to admit that under the circumstances, she wasn't too keen to see them either but the two Weasley twins had noticed them and were now cutting across the dance floor with evil grins on their faces.

* * *

A murky shaft of blue light rose up from the cauldron as Dumbledore slowly stirred the potion. The vapors were rising higher and higher in the air now and a blue light reflected eerily off his ancient face in the pitch black of the forest night.

Dumbledore sighed. He wondered if it would be enough.

* * *

"Hey, Ron, Hermione," said Fred.

"Do you mind?" asked Ron. "We're dancing."

No sooner were the words out of Ron's mouth that the music stopped and the audience turned to applaud. Worse, Binns' amplified voice announced that the orchestra was taking a ten minute rest.

They left with Fred and George to a nearby table.

"So, you two." George winked at Ron. "I heard."

"I don't think you heard anything," said Ron, suddenly red in the face.

Fred eyed Hermione up and down. "You look very nice, Hermione." He, too, winked at Ron.

"Thank you," replied Hermione, a little coldly.

Fred and George tried to talk about the joke shop but Hermione and Ron made it clear they wanted the conversation to end as quickly as possible.

"Well," said George, standing up, much to Ron's relief. "Got to be going. I heard Angelina's around, too."

Fred looked quizzically at George but then got up himself.

Hermione and Ron half-smiled and waved their goodbyes.

"I'm afraid we won't have gotten rid of them for the whole night," said Ron, as soon as they were out of earshot. "Sorry about that, Hermione."

But Hermione was no longer paying attention to Fred and George. Her gaze seemed fixed on the area of the dance floor just in front of the orchestra.

"It would all have been so perfect," she said.

Ron's face fell. "What would have been so perfect?" he asked suspiciously.

Hermione continued to stare at the stage. "We were going to use the Fillibuster fireworks we got from Zonko's to attract everyone's attention, then the house elves were going to enchant the dance floor right in front of the orchestra to form the letters S.P.E.W."

"Is that all?"

"Well, no," replied Hermione, a little defensively. "Then I was going to make a speech. And Colin. And maybe even Arabella. And Dobby, of course."

"Dobby?"

"They were too nervous about it, the house elves." Hermione sighed.

"And if they hadn't been?" Ron felt his blood start to rise in his cheeks.

Hermione didn't seem to take the hint. "But all that's over now, anyway."

Ron started to feel relieved. "Yes," he said, smiling.

But his smile was short lived as Hermione went on.

"We have to focus on the future now," she said. "Our plan for the ball was obviously too ambitious. We should try to educate the school. I know!" Hermione's face lit up. "We can have a contest. A sort of 'did you know' about the history of house-elf enslavement."

"What are you going do for prizes then?"

Ron regretted the question immediately.

Hermione seemed lost in thought for a moment and kept muttering "OK," "we could," and "he could" under her breath while Ron sat impatiently next to her.

"I know," she finally said. "The winner of the first prize will receive a week in a real elf village. They're not far from Hogsmeade," she went on enthusiastically. "I'll bet Dobby could arrange it for us."

"I know what the winner of the second prize could receive."

"Go on," said Hermione, pleased that Ron was finally entering into the spirit of the thing.

"Two weeks in a real elf village."

"Ron!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I just can't get myself worked up about house elves."

Hermione folded her arms. "Well, I just hope you realize that everything we've been enjoying tonight at this dance is due to their thankless labor. You saw the way Filch was bossing them about. He can't cast any real spells himself, of course."

"Filch is like that to everybody!" Ron protested.

"I know," replied Hermione, "but it's just not fair! They do thankless work for no pay and don't get any credit for it."

"Look, Hermione. Maybe you're right. But I can't create a house-elf revolution overnight. And," Ron's voice faltered for a moment, "I'd really like the chance to enjoy the rest of the dance with you."

Hermione half-smiled at Ron. "I know, Ron," she said quietly, looking at her fingernails. "I'm sorry. I just get carried away."

Ron started to feel a little better. "It's all right."

The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra had started playing again and couples were moving back onto the floor. There was a sudden loud clacking sound as Luna and Neville danced past them.

"Sorry about the noise," said Luna apologetically. "I lined my shoes with reinforced steel. Ginny warned me."

Ron looked back to Hermione and saw that she, too, was trying her best to conceal a smirk for Neville's benefit.

"Do you want to dance again?" he asked.

Hermione smiled more fully. "Why not?"

* * *

Draco Malfoy moved along the edge of the dance floor, his eyes darting back and forth through the crowd. His raised his eyebrows thoughtfully as he passed Pansy Parkinson, who was moving off the dance floor with her partner Adrian Pucey, a seventh-year chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Pansy stiffened slightly as she saw Malfoy approach and looked him frigidly in the eye.

"Good evening, Parkinson," drawled Malfoy.

Pansy held tightly onto Pucey's arm and looked back at Malfoy defiantly.

"Where's your partner, Draco?" she asked, a note of jealous pleasure in her voice.

"Seems I haven't got one, doesn't it?" Malfoy replied.

"Well," Pansy went on. "Maybe I can spare a dance for you later, if Adrian doesn't mind." She looked back at Malfoy with an expression that suggested such a thing was very unlikely.

"I wouldn't want to spoil your evening."

Malfoy moved past Pansy before she could offer another response. He amused himself momentarily by imagining her staring after him, enraged that he had remained so cool when seeing her with Pucey. Malfoy shook his head as he wondered how that girl could have ever been sorted into Slytherin. But he couldn't deny that she had helped him a great deal. He had little doubt that by the next day half the school would have heard her prattle on about her version of their encounter. No one would ever question whether or not he'd attended the dance.

Malfoy reached the entrance to the great hall, looked around for a moment to make sure no one was watching and then quickly left.

* * *

Ginny was now leading three games to two. The Harry figure was poised two levels from the top of the pyramid. With a little reluctance, Harry moved onto a Defense Against the Dark Arts square.

Gilderoy Lockhart appeared on the board and winked at him. Ginny claimed she hadn't had the chance to update the game since her first year. Harry wasn't quite sure he believed her.

"This spell," said Lockhart, "causes both the wizard casting it and whomever he faces to share each other's thoughts."

"That's easy. We've just learned that one. Synchronis Totalis."

Ginny frowned as Harry's figure moved up another level. "Really?" she said.

"Yeah," replied Harry. He told Ginny about the class with Nevins and Ron and Hermione's strange behavior.

Ginny giggled. "They must have been daydreaming about each other before Nevins started the exercise. I'll bet they were scared out of their wits the other would find out how they felt."

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't see it at the time but I suppose that's what must have happened."

There was what seemed to Ginny an awkward pause in the conversation. She looked up at Harry and tried to think of something to say.

"Y – you said that when the two wizards are sharing each other's thoughts, when one casts a spell, the spell will rebound and then hit both of them?"

"Yeah. We did it in class."

Ginny furrowed her brows in concentration.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Ginny finally. "It seemed to remind me of something, that's all. But I can't remember what it is now." She shrugged.

Harry moved his piece to the Famous Witches and Wizards square on the next level.

A Dumbledore figure appeared and asked:

"This band was the first to sell one million spells for their record Stirring the Potion."

"That's easy, too," said Harry. "The Weird Sisters."

Harry's figure jumped up on top of the pyramid. A golden snitch appeared in its hand which it waved triumphantly over its head.

"It's a draw now," Harry said to Ginny. He looked up and was surprised to see her beaming from ear to ear.

"I didn't know you liked the Weird Sisters," she said.

"Oh, yeah. Ever since they came to play here. I didn't know anything about wizard music before. But then Ron showed me how to get the spells."

"I've got all their spells!" exclaimed Ginny. "I just got the Stirring the Potion concert spell for my birthday last summer!"

Harry's eyes lit up. With everything that had happened to him over the summer, he had hardly had the chance to think about getting any song spells. "The live concert?" he asked eagerly. "From Transylvania?"

"Yes, it's wicked. Want to hear it?"

"Yeah."

Ginny flicked her wand and the Spellmaster game picked itself up and fell back into the box. She then pointed her wand at the fireplace and muttered a very long sounding spell. Harry supposed it must have been something to do with added security. He didn't realize that Ginny was cutting all of the slow songs out of the concert. She didn't want to scare Harry off.

The Weird Sisters then appeared over the fireplace. The first song in their concert started to boom loudly through the empty common room.

"Want to dance?" asked Ginny.

Harry suddenly stiffened. "I – I'm not really very good at dancing."

"Oh, it's easy," said Ginny, full of enthusiasm. She flicked her wand again and all of the furniture in the common room moved back against the walls, leaving a large empty space in the middle.

"They're all fast songs. You just move to the rhythm. Here." She moved closer to Harry and grabbed hold of his shoulders gently. She suddenly felt something toss and turn inside her. Blood seemed to rush from her fingers straight to her face. Not now, she begged to herself. Please don't blush now!

She let go of Harry quickly. "When the music comes on, just move, just do whatever feels natural. It's just like Quidditch." She started to rock her body back and forth to the beat.

Harry tried to move about but he was still a little stiff and awkward. Ginny wanted to tell him to relax, to release himself, that he could be whomever and whatever he wanted in front of her. But she thought this would just make Harry feel worse so she just smiled and kept dancing.

* * *

Down in the Great Hall, Ron twirled Hermione around in a very different sort of dance. He didn't think he was doing too badly but Hermione seemed to be frowning most of the time.

"What's the matter?" he asked, wondering if she was still thinking about the house elves.

"I'm worried about Harry," she said.

"I'm sure he's all right," Ron insisted but Hermione kept frowning.

"I don't know, Ron. What if Voldemort's planning something Dumbledore doesn't know about?"

Ron felt a sudden wave of jealousy rush through him. He'd had his feeling before, of course. There were times he envied Harry's fame, his wealth, his skill on the Quidditch pitch, and the way the whole wizard world was always running around trying to protect him. This was a new kind of jealousy, though: he was jealous of the way Hermione felt about his best friend. It was stupid really, Ron kept trying to tell himself. Hermione liked him, not Harry. She'd told him so, hadn't she? She'd definitely told Harry. And the last thing Harry would want was the two of them to spend all night talking about him. And that was just what Ron finally decided to tell Hermione.

"I know," she replied, still looking a little anxious, "but sometimes he doesn't know what's good for him."

"But it's his choice, isn't it?" said Ron, twirling Hermione around a little faster.

"Yes." Hermione's anxious look started to fade slightly. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "I've done it again. I should have been thinking about our dance."

The song came to an end. Hermione and Ron stopped in the middle of the dance floor. Ron saw Binns move to the front of the orchestra again.

"And now," he announced, still wearing his pasted-on smile. "The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra and Miss Henrietta Handsdowne will present an original piece, in the non-corporeal style, never before heard by ephemerals such as yourselves. I cannot stress enough what a rare privilege this is."

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "They're bringing out the musical saws."

Indeed, their worst fears seemed realized. The orchestra was placing their period instruments back into the floor and were bringing musical saws of all shapes and sizes out of the floor. They were the same instruments Ron, Harry, and Hermione had heard at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party their second year.

There was a mass exodus from the dance floor as the orchestra began playing and the sound of screeching metal filled the hall. Henrietta Handsdowne then broke into an unharmonious melody that reminded Ron of an out-of-tune fire engine. If that wasn't bad enough, Binns decided this would be a duet. He moved closer to Henrietta, his wrinkled face barely reaching her chest, and eyed her longingly from underneath his spectacles. Then he broke into a breathy counter-tenor that reminded Hermione of the sound a vacuum cleaner made when it ran over a spoon. She stuck her fingers in her ears as Binns made a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt at a high note.

"Do you want to go?" she asked Ron, wincing.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. He looked around and saw students and teachers running for the exit.

He and Hermione joined the shuffling crowds waiting to get out. As they got stuck in a queue near the entrance, Ron managed to gather his thoughts together. It hadn't been the most perfect evening, of course: Hermione had gotten a bit hung up on S.P.E.W. and then on Harry. But she'd apologized for that and he hadn't made a complete fool of himself at dancing. He could let the evening end here. She would probably have a good memory of her time. It could be a start. But something chewed away at Ron. He wasn't sure that he wanted the evening to end just yet.

Hermione left the hall slightly ahead of Ron and started to walk up the main stairs in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She turned around in surprise when Ron took hold of her arm.

"What is it?" she asked.

Ron suddenly seemed very nervous again. "I – I wondered whether you'd like to go for a walk?"

* * *

Back in Gryffindor Tower, the audience had no misgivings about the music. The common room was scarcely recognizable to anyone who knew it. All four walls had been enchanted to resemble the Creepy Chamber Concert Hall in Transylvania. Wizards, witches, hags, goblins, and vampires (who hung from seats fixed to the ceiling) swayed back and forth to the music of The Weird Sisters' title track.

Harry seemed to have forgotten all his reluctance now as he danced alongside Ginny on the common room floor. The Weird Sisters started to play the chorus again and both he and Ginny belted out the lyrics along with them:

"Oh girl, you stir my potion,  
I'm feeling your emotion,  
You've got me in your spell,  
My broomstick is in motion.

She was just a lonely hag,  
I met her on a crag,  
We went back to her hovel  
And we had a little shag.

Now she hopes I will be true,  
But work afar I do,  
I bought her a big fireplace,  
And got me out some floo.

Oh girl, you stir my potion,  
I'm feeling your emotion – "

Harry and Ginny sung and danced together for several more numbers. Finally, after the Weird Sisters' last song ("I don't care if you're not rich / I just want to be your witch"), they stopped playing. The audience clapped hands, hooves, and wings in appreciation. Then the spell came to an end. The images on the walls vanished and the lights in the common room returned to normal. Suddenly there were only two Hogwarts students standing in the room.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other for a few moments. They panted hard and both of their faces were red from the fast dancing. Ginny wasn't sure what to say but she started to feel a reckless confidence come over her. She felt an ease and closeness to Harry that she'd never felt before, not even the year before when she'd thought she'd gotten over her crush. She knew that they had shared something together, just the two of them and no one else — and something other than a nightmare.

"I – I suppose," Harry started, as if coming out of a dream. "I suppose we'd better get these chairs back in order. I expect people will be coming up again soon."

Ginny looked at her watch. Harry was right. She was surprised how much time had passed. But she was also sure she didn't want the evening to end just yet. She looked up at him and said:

"Actually, I thought perhaps we could play one more game first."

"Of Spellmaster?" Harry wasn't sure he was still interested.

"No." Ginny fixed Harry in the eye. "This is a different game. It's called wizard truth."

* * *

"Where are we going?" asked Hermione as Ron led her down the corridor near the Divination room. It seemed to her that they had walked for miles and her feet had started to ache in her high-heeled shoes.

Ron looked pale and scared again. "Er, it's a surprise."

"I don't think I've ever been past the Divination room before," said Hermione, looking around. "Are you sure you're not lost?"

"I don't think so. Fred and George told me about this place last year."

Hermione looked doubtful. "Are you sure they weren't pulling your leg?"

"Here it is, I think." Ron reached a small door and pushed it open.

There was a sudden blast of cold air as the door opened onto an outdoor balcony.

"After you," said Ron, gesturing toward the opening with a weak smile.

Hermione grimaced as she walked out onto the balcony and felt a strong, cold late autumn wind toss her about like a ship in a storm.

Ron stepped out after her and grimaced as the wind seemed to blow his head off.

Hermione walked around the side of the small balcony which hugged the outside window of the Astronomy Tower. She gave a sudden gasp as she realized they were not alone. Two seventh-year Ravenclaws were pressed against the wall, still dressed in their dance robes and locked in a kiss, strands of their hair blowing together like yarn spinning on a loom.

"Seems they've found a way to keep warm," remarked Hermione acidly.

Ron walked to the railing overlooking the rest of the castle. With some reluctance, Hermione followed him.

Ron looked at her and smiled. "Isn't it beautiful?" he tried to say but his words seemed to blow out into the night.

"What?" yelled Hermione.

"I said 'isn't it beautiful?'" Ron shouted back.

"Oh, yeah," shouted Hermione. She looked down at the scene below them. It was very beautiful indeed. The castle lay sprawled out like a fortress in a picture postcard. The lights from the lanterns in the halls below them glowed like fairies and the turrets seemed to blend into the velvet star-lit sky. But Hermione found it difficult to appreciate the view. She felt like a jet engine had started right in front of her and was venting its turbines into her face. Icy tears ran down her cheeks and her feet felt about to fall off. When her knees starting knocking together furiously, she decided she had had enough.

"Ron!" she shouted. "Do you mind if we go inside? I'm freezing!"

Without waiting for his reply, she walked back through the door and into the castle.

Ron followed her, looking down at the ground. This was definitely not what he'd imagined.

* * *

"What's wizard truth?" asked Harry as he and Ginny sat back down at one of the tables.

"It's very simple, actually," said Ginny quickly, before she could talk herself out of it. "Two players – or however many players there are – ask each other questions, anything they want. The players who answer the questions have to tell the truth."

"It sounds like Truth or Dare."

"What's Truth or Dare?"

"It's a game I used to have to play with Dudley and his friend Piers. Each player has to answer the truth or if they choose not to answer, they have to take a dare."

"What's a dare?" Ginny frowned.

"Well, when I played with Dudley, he would usually ask a question like 'What's your favorite color?' and then I would say, well, red, and then Dudley would say 'liar, now you have to take a dare' and then punch me in the stomach."

Ginny winced. "Well, this game is much less painful. If you don't want to answer, you don't have to."

"That's it? Nothing happens if you don't answer?"

"The player who asks the question gains a point," said Ginny innocently.

"That doesn't sound like much fun."

"More fun than getting punched in the stomach."

Harry shrugged. "So the one who asks the most difficult questions wins?"

"Yes. And, of course, you learn a lot about the person who loses."

Harry scratched his head. "How's that?"

Ginny's brown eyes seemed to grow especially large as she looked at Harry and said:

"I thought even Muggles would know that. You learn he has many things to hide."

A sort of strange tension started to come over Harry. He found himself thinking of riding dangerously fast on his broomstick, then still faster when he found he hadn't fallen off, and then still faster again.

"Do you want to go first?" Ginny was saying.

"All right," said Harry. "Well, what's your favorite color?"

"You're not going to punch me in the stomach, are you?"

"'Course not."

"That's easy then," replied Ginny, looking directly back at him. "Green."

"Are you sure you shouldn't've been sorted into Slytherin?"

"Positive."

Harry suddenly felt that he had to catch his breath. "Well, your question then."

"Let's see," said Ginny. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Lavender."

Ginny gave a little gasp. "Why lavender?"

"I don't know," said Harry, looking very thoughtful. "I – I suppose I've always liked the smell."

Ginny stared at him blankly. "Oh," she said. "Your question."

"Well, of course," said Harry a little sheepishly. "I - I'll have to ask you something more difficult if I'm going to win."

"Of course." Ginny continued to stare.

"Well." Harry faltered a little. "Wh – what is your most embarrassing moment?" He looked up at Ginny and smiled a little weakly.

Ginny smiled back at him a little mischievously. "You're getting quite good at this game. I forfeit," she said idly, looking down and playing with a quill someone had left lying on the table. "You win a point. My question."

Harry looked a little affronted but Ginny went on:

"What's yours?"

"Mine?"

"Your most embarrassing moment."

"That's easy," said Harry. "The time I fell off my broomstick during a Quidditch game my third year, when the Dementors came out onto the pitch."

Ginny frowned with concern. "That wasn't embarrassing, Harry. It was frightening. We were all worried."

"I know," said Harry with a half-smile, "but it was embarrassing, too."

"I believe you," said Ginny. She felt a sudden urge to reach out and hold Harry's hand but resisted.

"Go on then," she said instead, twirling the quill in her hand. "Your question. Chance to go up two-naught."

Harry looked at Ginny curiously for a moment. It almost seemed like she wanted to lose but he wasn't quite sure why. He started to feel like he was riding on that very fast broomstick again.

"Well, o – of course," he said. "Th – there is one question I could ask you."

"Yes?" Ginny looked very curious indeed.

"Did you send me that Valentine?"

Harry wasn't sure what made him ask the question. The words just seemed to pour out of his mouth of their own accord. But he found that now he had asked, it seemed very important to know the answer.

Ginny suddenly went very pale. "W – what Valentine?"

Now it was Harry's turn to stare at Ginny. "The Valentine," he said. "Lockhart's singing Valentine. My second year. Your first."

But Ginny didn't reply. She simply continued to stare.

* * *

Ron and Hermione walked back together toward Gryffindor Tower. Hermione kept rubbing her shoulders and shivering. Ron was trying to think of things to say to cheer her up but so far he hadn't done very well.

"I – I'm sorry, Hermione," said Ron. "I didn't know it would be so cold." Of course, he had known it was very cold outside but somehow it had never crossed his mind when he imagined what he would feel like standing out there with Hermione.

"It's all right," said Hermione, but she continued to look miserable. "I just want to get back to Gryffindor Tower."

"R - Right, of course. Maybe you'd like some tea, or cocoa when we get there? I – I think I can conjure some up. I'm getting a little better at the spell."

"Not really," Hermione replied. "I think I'll probably just go to bed. I'm a little tired. And we still have classes tomorrow."

Ron hadn't seemed to hear her response. "O – or a big blanket. We could sit by the fire and – "

"Ron." Hermione suddenly stopped walking. She swung around to face him.

Ron stopped walking, too. He felt his heart slide slowly down to his stomach. He had a very bad feeling Hermione was about to tell him something he really didn't want to hear. He wasn't wrong.

"Look," Hermione said softly. "I really enjoyed the dance tonight and I – I really want to thank you. You really tried to give me a good evening. I – I just – " Hermione broke off and ran her fingers through her hair. "It's nothing about you at all," she said. "I just feel really nervous. I feel like w – we explored something tonight that I'm just not ready for. Maybe one day I will be but not today."

Ron took a step backwards. He suddenly felt as cold as if an army of ghosts had just walked straight through him. He immediately felt a lump form in his throat and hot tears rush to the edge of his eyes. He balled his fists and forced them down. He would not cry. He would especially not cry right here and now in front of Hermione.

"I – it's OK, Hermione," he managed to say. "I understand."

They continued to walk toward Gryffindor Tower. After a few moments, Hermione looked at Ron anxiously and tried to read the expression on his face through his profile. "Ron, I – I'm really sorry. Are you all right?"

Shut up, Hermione, thought Ron. You're making things worse.

"I'm fine," he replied, managing to keep his voice steady.

They continued to walk on in silence. It was all Fred and George's fault, decided Ron. Everything had gone fine until they had turned up. Ron suddenly realized it was right after they left that Hermione had started talking about S.P.E.W. And everything had gone rotten from then. Of course, it had also been Fred and George who had told him about the Astronomy Tower. Hermione was probably right. They probably had been pulling his leg. They probably knew it was just windy and cold up there all the time. He could see them sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room now laughing about it. If he ever saw them again, Ron swore he was going to strangle one twin with each hand.

Ron was knocked out of his thoughts when Hermione suddenly sneezed.

"Bless you," said Ron automatically.

Then Hermione sneezed again, and again.

"I think I'm catching a cold," she said, sounding miserable then added, almost under her breath. "I don't know why you had to take me out to that tower anyway."

Hermione regretted the remark as soon as she'd finished saying it. She had already made her peace with Ron and now she was pouring salt into the wound. She turned around to apologize but Ron had already stopped walking and was staring at her.

Ron didn't feel like crying at all now. He anger was piqued and he felt his face start to flush. All of the pent up frustration and anger he was reserving for his brothers he started to direct at Hermione.

"You want to know why I wanted to take you out to the tower?" he demanded.

"I – I – not really, Ron. I'm sorry," she stammered.

"Then perhaps you could explain to me why you just made that stupid remark?"

Hermione suddenly didn't feel quite so sorry for Ron anymore. She folded her arms and looked back at him. "If there's something you want to tell me, Ron, you can tell me anywhere. We don't have to sneak up to some deserted tower!"

Ron looked around. He was standing with his back to the far wall of the hallway facing out. He could see they were no longer alone. Students of all years were starting to come up from the main staircase and walk pass them on their way up to Gryffindor Tower. But, strangely, Ron found he no longer cared.

"Actually, Hermione," he retorted. "If you really want to know, I didn't want to tell you anything. There was something I wanted to do!"

"Well, whatever it was you wanted to do, Ron, you can do it anywhere!"

Ron took a step closer to Hermione. "Careful, Hermione," he said, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Just as you said, you might not be ready for it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm ready." She took a step closer to Ron and raised her chin at him defiantly.

Ron felt his heart start to beat very fast. He was standing very close to Hermione now. He could see her hair falling down around her uncovered shoulders. He could smell the scent of the wildflower potion she had used on her face. The angry flush of her cheeks seemed to draw him even closer. But it was her eyes that finally tipped the balance: Ron could see a kaleidoscope of contradictory feelings surging beneath them: anger, fear, confusion, pity – and love?

And so it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Ron to pull Hermione toward him and kiss her full on the lips.

Hermione did not resist at first. Her lips parted and he felt the tingling touch of her tongue on his and the tight grip of her hands on his back.

Then she suddenly pushed him roughly away.

Ron looked at Hermione as she moved away from him in shock. He could only ever remember having seen her look that way once before, when she had been petrified by the giant basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets their second year. Ron was forced to conclude that this was not a good sign.

"H – Hermione," he stammered. "I – I – I'm really sorry. I – I shouldn't have done that. Y – you already told me you weren't – I mean – oh, gods – I – "

But Hermione didn't reply. Indeed, she didn't seem to realize Ron was there. She began pacing back and forth, just as she had the night before in the common room, clenching and unclenching her fists as she spoke into space.

"I – I – it's OK, Hermione," she said. "Y – y – you can handle this. It's – it's – it's OK."

"H – H – Hermione," Ron squeaked. "Please. I'm really, really sorry. Don't – "

But whatever Ron did not want Hermione to say or do, she did not find out for at that moment, she suddenly turned to Ron, shoved him hard against the wall, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Ron's eyes bulged out of their sockets as his senses exploded. He felt his head catch on fire as nerves he never knew he possessed fired into his brain. Hermione's warm breath enveloped his face as he felt her lips move softly over his. She ran her hands all through his hair while her own came down in a tangled mess and tickled the side of his face. Ron wanted to scream. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the sensual agony to stop or never to end. His legs gave way and he and Hermione fell to the stone floor in a mess of intertwined limbs and hair. Finally, Ron grabbed Hermione's shoulders and held on to her tightly. It was as if all of the pent up anger, fear, frustration, laughter, and joy they had shared for so many years was suddenly released in a single act of unrestrained passion.

* * *

Neville burst into the Gryffindor common room and ran over to the table where Harry and Ginny were sitting. So caught up was Neville in his own disbelief that he did not notice that Harry and Ginny were staring dumbly at each other. They looked up as he ran toward them as if breaking out of a trance.

"Ginny! Harry!" Neville cried breathlessly. "I – I don't know how to tell you. You – you'd better come and have a look."

Neville turned to leave and Ginny got up to follow him quickly. Harry followed a little more reluctantly. Neville led them out of the portrait hole and down the staircase. When they reached the bottom, they could see that a crowd of Gryffindors had gathered and seemed to be looking down at something on the floor. Normally when there was some sort of spectacle, like a fight in the corridors, or a Peeves-induced catastrophe, the students buzzed with noise but now everyone seemed strangely quiet. Harry realized he had not thought all night about the Death Eaters and their intended plan for the evening. He wondered whether they had started an incident, whether –

Harry's brain suddenly went numb as he, Neville, and Ginny pushed through the crowds and he looked down at his two best friends locked in a long, wet, passionate kiss, oblivious to the world around them. His felt like his mind had shut down because it could no longer accept what his eyes were telling him. He recalled Hermione's confused confessions to him that morning and Ron's frightened pleas to keep returning to their dormitory so he wouldn't have to face her. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to fathom what had led them so quickly to the violent act of affection unfolding before him.

Harry thought all of this fairly fast. The next moment he realized that everyone in his house was staring at Ron and Hermione sharing their first kiss.

He stood moved to front of the crowd and turned around to face them, nearly stepping on top of Ron and Hermione who still didn't seem to realize they were not alone.

"This is none of your business!" he shouted at the crowd. "Go away and leave them alone!"

There was no response. Harry watched three second-year boys standing in front with their mouths open.

Without hesitation, he took out his wand and pointed it at his fellow Gryffindors.

"IF YOU DON'T GO NOW, I SWEAR I WILL HEX YOU ALL!"

Neville's eyes bulged. He turned around and led a frightened exodus back up the stairs to the tower. Finally, only Harry was left.

At the sound of Harry shouting, Ron and Hermione finally emerged from each other. All three friends looked at each other. Not one of them said a thing.

After a long moment had passed, Ron and Hermione got to their feet and walked up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower trailed closely by Harry. Many of the other Gryffindor students were still milling about the common room but, without saying a word to each other, Ron and Hermione headed straight up separate staircases like zombies. Harry didn't feel much more together himself and walked up right behind Ron.

Harry got quickly into his four-poster bed, vaguely aware that his roommate now smelled strongly of wildflowers. He glanced across to see Ron lying in bed with a manic grin on his face that belonged on a patient at St. Mungo's.

Harry was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. He couldn't believe it was that very day that he and Hermione had crouched inside the Shrieking Shack listening to the Malfoys. Whatever it was that the Death Eaters were planning had either fallen through or taken place without their knowledge. Harry thought back on the mental anguish of sending Hermione and Ron to the dance while he stayed alone in the common room, of his own dance with Ginny and the strange games they had played, and then finally the kiss his friends had shared. He soon found his conscious thoughts start to unravel in confusion and he fell into a deep sleep.

He did not even wake up when his scar began to burst with pain.

* * *

Ginny started to giggle, softly at first but then so loudly her body shook and she had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from waking up her roommates. So many emotions seemed to flood through Ginny's head as she sat lying in bed that she wouldn't have surprised herself if she'd laughed or cried.

She let her thoughts dwell on the moments she had shared with Harry that night like they were the sweetest memories of her life. Being with him had seemed so natural. Ginny was more certain than ever that they belonged together, though she still doubted whether he saw things the same way.

And it had been her plan and no one else's. And it had worked. She hadn't given up on Harry and most importantly, she hadn't given up on herself. Ginny wondered for a moment how things might have been different between the two of them years ago if she had found the courage she had shown tonight much earlier. She now realized she had given up on Harry not because she had no longer loved him but because she had been too afraid to take the chance and fail. But Ginny was not one to dwell on things she could not control. That was the past and now things seemed strangely simple.

Harry had forgotten to say good night to her, of course, but such were the bizarre circumstances of the evening that this failed to conjure any feelings of self-pity on Ginny's part. Harry had also forgotten about their game of wizard truth, his last question, and Ginny's inability to do anything but stare at him like a troll. Ginny decided this was fortunate. But she tossed and turned well into the night, wondering what had compelled him to ask her in the first place. The question vexed Ginny until fatigue overcame her at last and she lapsed into sleep without realizing it.

And then dreamed.

In this dream, Harry Potter had invited her to the ball. She looked at herself in the mirror as she enchanted her hair into longer and richer curls. She straightened the straps of her long red dress, and moved around to watch the light from the lanterns in her room reflect off the yellow stars running down the side. Ginny knew she looked beautiful. She smiled warmly to herself, bringing a rosy blush to her face as she imagined Harry's face when he saw her.

She took a deep breath, opened the outside door to her room, and then walked out to the top of the staircase. She looked down to the common room to see Harry standing there waiting for her, dressed in maroon and gold dress robes. He smiled as she walked down but Ginny's own smile faded.

For she could see that Harry was not alone. To his right, dressed in green and white dress robes, his black hair swept back, stood Tom Riddle.

"Good evening, Ginny," Tom said smoothly. "Harry is here to take you to the ball, but I'm afraid we have a little problem. You see, I rather I wanted you for myself."

Ginny gasped and took a step backward.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" said Tom, his face curling up in a sneer. "Did you forget about me? After all we shared together, you could still give your love to someone else?"

Harry turned to Tom, his face now full of anger. "You can't have her, Riddle!" he exclaimed, as if the would-be Dark Lord was a common school rival. "She's mine!"

Tom turned to face Harry. "Is that so?" he asked coolly. "Well, perhaps we should duel for her." Tom reached into his breast pocket and drew out his wand.

"Why not." Harry's jaw hardened as he took out his own wand and turned toward Tom.

"No, Harry!" Ginny suddenly found her voice. "I don't want him! I only want to go to the dance with you! Put the wand away! Let's go now, before it's too late!"

Harry didn't seem to hear her at all. He kept staring at Tom.

"You always think you're so much better than everyone else, Riddle," he hissed. "Just because you're a prefect. But this time you've gone too far! She's mine and you can't have her!"

"Of course he can't!" cried Ginny. "Listen to me, Harry! He's not just a prefect. He's the Dark Lord! He's – he's You-Know-Who!" She screwed up her courage. "He's Voldemort!"

But Harry seemed completely closed to the world around him. "Shall we start then?" he asked Tom.

"By all means." Tom's eyes narrowed menacingly.

Tom and Harry walked toward each other and bowed, then pointed their wands at each other.

Even in her confused dreamlike mind, Ginny could see that while the setting was different, she had watched this duel a hundred times before.

Tom was first, of course.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The wand lights met in the center. Ginny thought for a moment that Harry might have grown stronger this time but the light from Tom's wand started to eat up Harry's and move slowly toward him. She watched the veins bulge in Harry's neck again. Soon his face was covered in sweat. She could see his hands shaking as he tried with all his strength to hold the wand steady.

Tom, on the other hand, seemed to hold his wand and sustain the spell with no effort at all. He coolly turned to Ginny and said:

"I'm afraid he hasn't heard you, Ginny. But you can still help him. Just come down here and stand between us."

Ginny took a step forward but then hesitated. She could feel the hot, harsh glare of the wand connection again. She knew that its touch would be fatal.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" asked Tom. "I thought you loved him. Isn't that what you told the mudblood girl? Surely such love is worth dying for? Surely the good, great Harry Potter deserves a noble sacrifice?"

Ginny tried to move forward but her legs would not cooperate. She watched in horror as the light from Tom's spell moved closer and closer to Harry.

"Ginny!" cried Harry. "You've got to help me!"

"Harry!" Ginny cried with frustration as her body refused to move. She watched, helpless as the light from Tom's wand hit Harry on the chest. He screamed and fell to the floor of the common room, dead.

Tom calmly tucked his wand back into his breast pocket, turned toward Ginny, and smiled. "Now I'm going to take you to the dance, Ginny. There'll be no Harry to get in our way." He started to walk up the stairs.

"Get away from me!" Ginny cried.

But Tom kept advancing toward her. Ginny could see the cold, heartless glint in his eyes, the self-assured smile on his lips. She stepped backward but tripped over the top step and fell. She watched in horror as he moved on top of her. She could smell his rancid breath.

It was just like a snake's.

Ginny screamed.

And woke up, panting and gasping for air. The sheets were soaking again. Ginny stared up at the top of her four-poster bed in horror.

The nightmares were back.

* * *

Voldemort walked to the edge of the forest and cautiously peered out at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The potion he had brewed now lay abandoned in the forest. It had done its work. So had his Death Eaters. He knew he was taking a small risk by coming here now. He could hear a frightened dog barking in the gamekeeper's cottage, but apart from that there was no other sound. The inhabitants of the castle were sleeping peacefully in their beds, just as falsely assured of their safety as the residents of the Burrow had been that summer. Perhaps they knew nothing of his plan or perhaps


	13. After The Fact

Chapter 13

After The Fact

The sixth-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory was bathed in pink light from the autumn sunrise. Somewhere on the school grounds a rooster crowed, owls squawked in the owlery, and Harry Potter opened his eyes.

And then he remembered what had happened the day before. And it was all he could do not to pull the covers back over his head and try to sleep again.

But Harry forced himself to wake up. Though he had not yet looked at his watch, he knew that at this time of year, the sun rose only a little before breakfast and he still had lessons that morning after all. Harry was starting to agree with Professor Nevins that it was criminal to hold a dance on a school night and expect students to go to classes the next day.

Around Harry, his other roommates were slowly rising. Dean was shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, Seamus couldn't seem to stop yawning, and Neville looked as if he had been struck in the head with a heavy pole. But Ron was still fast asleep. Harry was about to wake him for breakfast but then thought better of it. He doubted whether Ron had gotten to sleep very early the night before. He decided he would wake him if he was still asleep when he returned from breakfast.

Harry got dressed and walked down the steps into the common room which was full of the usual early morning activity on a school day. Students were spilling out of their rooms, walking in and out of bathrooms, avoiding bumping into each other, and finally leaving for breakfast. The only difference on this morning was that things were unusually quiet as the sleep-deprived Gryffindors stumbled about like the living dead.

Which was perhaps how Hermione managed to remain fast asleep, curled up in a ball on the sofa like a hibernating hedgehog, covered in a blanket of scattered S.P.E.W. parchments.

Harry walked over to her and sighed. Gingerly, so as not to wake her, he picked up his best friend's scattered notes and placed them back into a folder which was lying on the table and then walked down to breakfast.

The hall looked much the same as usual. There was little indication it had been recently used for anything different. For the first time, Harry found himself a little curious about what had taken place here the night before. He supposed he could ask Ron and Hermione but he doubted they would be in the mood to answer his questions when they finally woke up.

Harry walked toward the Gryffindor table and was surprised to see Ginny sitting by herself near the middle. He thought of walking toward her but then hesitated. He had enjoyed himself very much with her last night at first. He had forgotten all about the Death Eaters and their plans. He had rarely felt anything take him out of his fears and problems so completely, other than Quidditch.

But then things had very suddenly changed. Very quickly, Harry had not felt relaxed and carefree at all. He felt a horrible anxiety come over him when he remembered how Ginny had asked him to play wizard truth. Why had she wanted to play the game and why had she seemed to egg him on to ask harder and harder questions? The more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he felt.

But worse than this was the fact that Harry himself had asked her about the Valentine. He wasn't sure what could have possibly made him do that. The truth was, of course, he had been curious about it for years, but that was no excuse. He could only conclude that Ginny had somehow gotten him worked up about the game. Whatever the case, it had been a horrible mistake. Harry suddenly felt very queasy. Seamus and Dean walked in and sat near the head of the table. It would be very natural to go over and sit next to them. But Harry knew he had a duty to be fair to Ginny. He couldn't let this hang and drag on. And he knew he wouldn't get a better chance. Ron was in bed fast asleep. He wouldn't have to know anything.

Harry took a deep breath and put his tray down in front of Ginny.

Ginny, who seemed deep in thought, looked up suddenly, jumpy and startled again.

"Sorry," said Harry.

Harry immediately noticed that Ginny looked very pale and almost frightened. As she looked him up and down for a moment, Harry had the curious feeling she was trying to make sure he was still there. Then Ginny abruptly smiled and a little color returned to her cheeks.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Are you all right, Ginny? You look a little pale." asked Harry.

"Oh," said Ginny, looking a little non-plussed. "I – I'm fine. I just didn't sleep all that well last night."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry, a little stiffly. "Where are your roommates?"

Ginny pointed over to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables where Catherine and Amanda were sitting respectively. Each seemed deep in conversation with their dates from the previous night. Indeed, as Harry looked all around the hall it seemed that inter-house relations were at an unusual peak.

"Oh," said Harry, turning back to Ginny. "Listen, Ginny, about last night."

Ginny was smiling even more broadly now but Harry did not notice as he was looking down at the table.

"I – I really had a good time, I mean, especially the dancing. Thanks for showing me the new song spell."

"Maybe we can do it again some time?"

"Oh, yes. I – I hope so. Ginny, look, I want to apologize about something, though."

Ginny's smile quickly faded. "Apologize? For what, Harry?"

"W – Well." Harry studiously examined his wizard puffs. "I, I, er, shouldn't have really asked you that question about the Valentine. The truth is I – I just got a little carried away with the game but I – I really should have considered your – your privacy."

"You're supposed to ask people private things in wizard truth, Harry. I could always choose not to answer."

Harry suddenly felt like his esophagus was tied in a knot. "Well, OK, but the truth is I don't really need to know and – and perhaps we can just forget about it – not the evening, I mean," he added quickly, "just about that one question."

Harry looked up hopefully and found that Ginny's lips had straightened themselves into a thin line. Quite a bit of color was coming into her cheeks now, but Harry no longer sensed that this was a good thing.

"I see, Harry," she said curtly. "Th – that won't be any problem." She suddenly stood up.

"B - But you haven't finished your breakfast?"

"I don't think I feel very hungry after all." Ginny looked down at the table. "A – actually, I think I still have one or two things to finish before class so, see you around."

"Oh, oh, OK. Well, see - "

But Ginny had taken her tray of food and left even before Harry had finished saying goodbye. He sighed and continued to sit at the table alone. It hadn't been the most comfortable of conversations but at least it was over now. Things might be awkward between them for a while, he realized, but after that, their friendship could develop much more easily. Ginny would have no misunderstanding about his feelings.

* * *

Ginny flung her half-eaten tray at a startled looking house-elf and then marched up the steps not quite certain where she was going. Most of her indecision rested on the fact that she was in two minds as to whether to find somewhere to cry or find some place where she could safely destroy something. She settled for arriving at her first class of the day early. Since this was Divination, she had a long way to walk and a long time to think about it.

Damn you, Harry Potter, damn you to hell. I'd just managed to decide I could safely like you, that maybe we could really have something and then you turn around and want to take it all back. You're right, you do deserve a Bat-Bogey Hex. You deserve a lot worse in fact. And I hope you receive it.

The same thoughts ran around and around in Ginny's mind, broken only when she reached the small alcove above which was the Divination classroom. She tripped on one of the steps on the steep ladder to the door making herself even more furious in the process. When she finally made it inside the room and sat down on one of the chairs, Ginny decided that she definitely wanted to destroy something and that if she didn't find a substitute soon, she was afraid that it would be Trelawney.

Ginny pulled a piece of parchment roughly out of her bag, took out a quill, and scribbled a rough stick-like figure that looked something like Harry's evil twin: its spiky hair stood up in all directions, its jagged scar reached down to the bridge of its nose. It wore an enormous pair of glasses yet its eyes and nose seemed to have contracted into Voldemort-like slits. A grotesquely large head topped a stick thin body with the letter "H" stenciled in the middle of its chest. Ginny finished the picture by drawing a round circle for its mouth that made the figure look perpetually surprised.

"That's right, Harry," she said to the picture. "You don't get it and you never will. Well, too bad."

Ginny took out her wand and pointed it at the picture.

"Incen – "

"Is that supposed to be Harry?" said a voice just behind her shoulder. "It's not a very good likeness, is it? I can only tell from the 'H' you drew on his front; I remember him wearing that tatty-looking sweater last year. I can't imagine where he got it. Well, I'm not surprised you wanted to burn it but there are easier ways; after all, you might make a mark on the table. Allow me. Evanesco."

The parchment and its portrait of Harry disappeared much too quietly for Ginny's liking.

"Why, Ginny, you're making those horrible breathing noises again. You know, you sound just like the Spiny-footed Kuku bird when it gets a bit upset."

"Tell me, Luna," said Ginny, without turning around. "Does the Spiny-footed Kuku bird ever get cross with the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper?"

"Oh, sometimes," replied Luna vacantly. "The Grubbly-Horned Sand Swiper takes ever such a long time to lose its horns."

"And what does the Spiny-footed Kuku bird do while it's waiting?"

Luna thought for a moment. "It often sings to it."

"Signs to it?"

"Oh, yes, the Spiny-footed Kuku bird is a very delicate creature."

"Well, this Spiny-footed Kuku bird doesn't want to sing at all. In fact, I think a much better idea would be to pick the Grubbly-Horned Sand Swiper up by its bottom and suffocate it in the sand!"

"We're not in a very good mood today, are we?"

Ginny didn't respond. Instead she sighed and said:

"I don't suppose you can explain to me why we're always in the same room like this, Luna?"

"Well, no, I wondered the same thing myself. I only came in here for a bit of privacy this morning, you know. Usually, no one's in much of a rush to come to Divination early. I just felt a bit upset about something but I suppose I'd better leave before the rest of your classmates come in."

Ginny turned around quickly and looked at Luna for the first time. While her voice had sounded as dreamy as usual, Ginny could now see that her eyes were red and puffy as though she had been crying.

Luna turned to leave and walk out of the classroom.

"Wait, Luna!" called Ginny, feeling all of her anger suddenly leave her.

Luna turned around to look at her.

"I – I'm sorry," said Ginny. "Please sit down again. I don't think anyone will be coming in for a while, anyway. Tell me what's wrong."

Luna hesitated for a moment and then sat down next to Ginny.

"It's Neville," she said, sighing and looking uncharacteristically despondent.

"You haven't broken up with him, have you?" asked Ginny, suddenly feeling alarmed.

Luna shook her head and Ginny was surprised at how relieved she felt.

"No, not yet, though I'm afraid that if things go on like this, he will," she said sadly. "He's just had to go to the hospital wing."

Ginny gasped. "What happened?"

"He was a little upset about the ball last night. Oh, he didn't say anything, the poor dear, but I could tell. He's so sensitive and sometimes I think I frighten him. I tried to cheer him up this morning at breakfast by giving him a gift of my animal spirit, you know, something to remind him of me."

"And he had to go to the hospital wing? What is your animal spirit?"

"A doxie."

"Oh."

"This one was a bit on the poisonous side, I'm afraid. Oh, Madame Pomfrey said he'd be all right. He's sleeping now. But I don't ever seem to be able to do the right thing."

"Well, Luna," said Ginny, putting her arm around the Ravenclaw. "Neville's always been a bit, well, jumpy. I don't think you have to give him a lot of presents. Just do little things for him."

"The doxie was little!"

"Yes, well, little things that aren't quite so poisonous."

Ginny hoped this would help Luna but to her dismay, Luna started to cry again.

"I – I – I'm such a misfit, aren't I? I've n – never known what to say around anyone. No one ever wants to be near L – Loony Lovegood for very long, do they?"

Ginny wanted to tell her that she needn't worry since Neville was the same but she didn't think this would sound very good.

"No, Luna!" she insisted instead, holding her more tightly. "That's not true!"

"It is!" Luna released Ginny's hand from her shoulder and turned back to look at her angrily. "You didn't want to be in here with me this morning, either, did you? I can tell from the way you asked me. Don't try to deny it!"

Ginny's feelings of self-pity had now completely vanished to be replaced by a horrible gnawing guilt.

"No, Luna!" she protested. "I – I was just in a bad mood! You said so yourself! It wasn't you; I didn't want to be around anyone! I – I'm really sorry!"

Luna continued to look inconsolable as Ginny conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her, though she dutifully took it and blew her nose loudly.

"Look, I'll tell you what," Ginny said. "I've known Neville for years. He's my brother's roommate. I can help you."

Luna stopped crying and turned to look at Ginny slightly more hopefully.

"Y – you will?" she asked.

Ginny nodded. "Everything will work out, Luna, I promise."

* * *

Harry finished his breakfast and started to walk out of the Great Hall. He'd supposed he would feel much better after talking to Ginny but he now found he felt somewhat empty. He made it about halfway up the first flight of stairs back to Gryffindor Tower when he suddenly realized that Ron and Hermione were still asleep back in the common room. For a moment, he thought of leaving them to it but then he remembered his resolve of the summer again: would he, Harry, abandon his two best friends when they really needed him the most? And after all he'd said to them the night before? It had been he who had sent them on their first date: it was only him who could help them now or at least be there if they needed his help.

Harry walked back into the Great Hall, put a few pieces of toast on a plate, poured out a cup of orange juice, and carried them up the stairs, hoping to avoid either Filch or Mrs. Norris.

When he arrived in the common room, Hermione was no longer asleep but was sitting down at one of the tables with her Arithmancy book open. She still had the S.P.E.W. parchments next to her on the other side but this time she hadn't opened the cover. She looked up as Harry approached.

"Uh," he said. "I – I thought you might like some breakfast."

Harry wasn't at all sure how Hermione would react. She looked up at him for a moment, not saying anything and then suddenly burst into tears, walked up from her desk, and drew him into a bone-crushing hug.

Harry put one arm around Hermione and used the other to hold out the plate and the cup at arm's length so as not to upset their contents. Hermione finally pulled out of the embrace.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so confused," she said.

Harry didn't really know how to reply. He wasn't sure he felt any clearer than Hermione.

Hermione looked down at the breakfast. "I – I'm not really very hungry at the moment but thank you."

"Perhaps you'd like to go for a walk then?" suggested Harry.

It was obvious from look on Hermione's face that she felt it was an excellent idea but then she looked down at her watch. "Oh, but, Harry, we can't – we've got Care of Magical Creatures in fifteen minutes."

"Hagrid will understand," Harry replied softly.

"No, Harry!" protested Hermione. "We can't just take advantage of Hagrid like that. And we can't go around missing classes. We'll lose loads of points if we're caught!"

Harry gently took hold of Hermione's shoulders. "We're not taking advantage of him. Look, Hermione, something happened between you and Ron last night. You obviously need some time to deal with it. You're not a machine. We'll go and have tea with Hagrid later. He'll understand."

Hermione reluctantly nodded and left the common room with Harry. They had made it to the portrait hole when Hermione stopped and looked back anxiously at the boys' dormitory.

"Is he - " she began.

"He's still asleep, I think," finished Harry. "I doubt he got to sleep very early last night."

"I didn't get to sleep at all," said Hermione, now walking again and leading the way out of the portrait hole. "I finally came out into the common room to work on some S.P.E.W. things and then I must have dozed off in the chair."

Harry and Hermione walked out onto the grounds. Harry had thought Hermione would start talking to him after they left the Great Hall but she didn't say a word. She led him in a large circle around the lake. It was another cool, clear day. A slight breeze blew off the surface of the water like an echo of the furious winds of the day before. Harry watched as the giant squid poked out its head from the surface of the water but then, having tested the air and found it too cold, retreated back into the murky depths.

Hermione remained silent as they completed the circle and returned to the front entrance of the castle. Harry was about to open his mouth to say something when Hermione made another turn and started a second circle. Finally, when they had nearly reached the far end of the lake again, Harry finally said:

"What happened last night?"

Harry wondered whether Hermione would flinch at the question but if she had felt it was none of Harry's concern, she did not show it. She hesitated for a moment, then launched in an unabridged account of her date with Ron.

"So," said Harry, after she had finished, his brow creased in perplexion. "You, er, you told Ron that you really just wanted to be friends and then a few minutes later you – you were, er, well – "

"Snogging him senseless, yes," finished Hermione.

"Well," said Harry, unable to resist smiling. "It does seem a little strange."

"Oh, Harry, don't you understand? I – I was nervous again. Everything seemed like it was happening so fast. I just felt so – so out of control. Oh." Hermione groaned and flailed her fists in the air. "I was so incredibly mean and horrible to him. All those things I said. I really hurt him, I know. I wonder if he'll forgive me."

"Hermione, you know, I really think he'll just remember how the evening ended."

"Really?" Hermione looked at Harry anxiously.

"Really, Hermione," said Harry with certainty. "Trust me."

They walked in silence for a while longer. The squid had now decided to poke its head a little further above the water. Hermione and Harry were soon approaching the castle again. Harry wondered whether Hermione was going to make yet another turn when she said very quietly:

"I wonder what will happen now."

Harry looked at his friend with continued surprise. "What will happen now?" he repeated. "But Hermione, obviously you and Ron are in love."

"I know," said Hermione, making a fist again, "but, Harry, what's going to happen to us, the three of us. I mean – the three of us were friends together – are friends," she added quickly as Harry looked alarmed.

"Well, you won't stop being friends with me, will you?"

"No, of course not, Harry. It's just – it's bound to be different. If Ron and I start a different kind of relationship, then things are bound to change between the three of us."

"All people change, Hermione."

"No, Harry." Hermione stopped walking and turned around to face him. There were tears in her eyes. "Stop being so noble. Be angry with us!"

Harry smiled a little hollowly. "You miss me being angry with you?"

"No, of course not, Harry, it's just – "

"I'm not angry with you or Ron, Hermione," Harry replied. "I'm happy for you. Maybe you don't want things to change but they already have. You can't pretend that kiss didn't happen. You can't pretend you don't love him. And if you do, it will make things much, much worse for all of us, believe me."

Harry and Hermione saw movement out of the corner of their eyes. Both turned to look back up at the castle and saw that Ron was no longer in his bed asleep. He was walking very tentatively through the grounds toward them.

Hermione turned back to look at Harry, reached up, and gently kissed him on the cheek. "You really are a great wizard, Harry Potter," she said. "And a good friend." She squeezed his hand and then turned away to walk toward Ron.

Ron continued to walk toward them but his steps seemed to grow even slower as he saw Hermione and then Harry move toward him.

But Hermione half-walked, half-trotted toward Ron as if she had made up her mind about something. Harry half-expected Ron to turn on his heels and start running back to the castle but instead he just stood there frozen. Hermione reached Ron with a broad girlish smile on her face. She took his hands in hers and looked up at him slowly. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said, without hesitation. "I said a lot of things I didn't really mean last night. The truth is I love you."

As Harry moved closer to Ron, he could see dull amazement written across his features. He tried to open his mouth to reply but only made a gurgling sound that reminded Harry of a frightened toad.

Hermione did not seem to notice. She put her arms around Ron and snuggled her face in his chest.

Ron stood there like a mummy for a moment. Harry, who was standing behind Hermione, made an anxious grabbing motion with his arms. Slowly, Ron closed his arms around Hermione. He now looked completely stunned.

Harry watched his two friends hold each other for a moment and then, when it seemed like they weren't going to move out from the hug any time soon, he cleared his throat and said awkwardly:

"Well, er, well, I, er, will j - just go on ahead then, shall I?"

Hermione looked across at Harry and smiled, her face still buried in Ron's robes. She didn't seem the least bit embarrassed to be holding Ron in front of him. "OK," she said.

Ron was apparently still incapable of speech so Harry slowly turned and began to walk back to the castle by himself.

But when he had nearly reached the door, he could not help pausing and looking back at his two friends who were now holding hands and talking. He had meant what he'd said to Hermione but as he walked through the castle door alone, he somehow couldn't help but feel a little lost.

* * *

Harry took it upon himself to go to the owlery and send a note to Hagrid apologizing for their absence in class, imploring him not to take any points from Gryffindor, and promising to explain it all to him over tea. Fortunately, they had no other lessons that morning as Harry doubted whether Ron and Hermione would have turned up for those either.

He went down to the Great Hall and found a seat next to Lavender, Parvati, Dean, Fred, George, and Fred and George's friend Lee Jordan with whom they had stayed in Hogsmeade the night before. Harry was very glad they had not found some way to stay in Gryffindor Tower and witness Ron and Hermione's kiss, but his relief was short-lived. The news about the kiss had traveled fast and Fred and George were eager for information when he walked in.

"Is it true, Harry?" asked Fred.

"Fancy Ickle Ronnikins," said George. "His first kiss."

"Have you seen them this morning?" asked Fred.

"No," Harry lied.

"They weren't in Care of Magical Creatures," said Dean unhelpfully. "Come to think of it – " He looked at Harry quizzically but stopped talking when Harry shot him a venomous glance.

"The one snog wasn't enough, I guess," said Lee.

Lavender and Parvati giggled stupidly.

But Fred wasn't paying much attention to them. He had stood up from his seat. Harry followed his gaze and saw Ron and Hermione walking into the Great Hall, hand in hand. Ron seemed to be bending over so that no one would notice him but Hermione did not look particularly concerned. Not, that was, until Fred, George, Lee, and Dean broke into an enthusiastic round of applause.

Harry immediately stood up, took his wand out of his pocket, and pointed it at the others. They stopped clapping.

"All right, Harry, all right. Just take it easy," said Fred.

"This place definitely needs lightening up again," said George, to which Fred nodded.

Ron and Hermione took seats across from Harry and reluctantly let go of each other's hands so they could eat. Neither said anything at first but after a time Lavender, Parvati, and Dean got involved in an animated discussion about the exact nature of Binns' prior relationship to Henrietta Handsdowne, and Fred and George started talking to Lee about a joint marketing scheme between the twins' joke shop and Lee's new tarantula breeding farm. Hermione quickly swallowed a bite of pork pie and leaned over to talk to Harry.

"Listen, Harry," she said, elbowing Ron in the hip, who quickly sprang to attention. Harry noticed that they had started to hold hands right away again. "We just want you to know that we hope you won't feel, well, awkward or anything because of this."

Ron nodded eagerly. "It'll be just like old times, mate. The three of us will go around and do everything together. Well, maybe not everything – " he added unnecessarily.

"What Ron means," Hermione went on before Harry could interject, "is that we don't want you to feel like we're, well, abandoning you or anything."

"We – " Ron began.

"Look." Harry put his glass down on the table a little harder than he'd intended. He wasn't sure what made him feel more disturbed, the fact that Hermione and Ron seemed obsessed about the effect their relationship might have on him or that two individuals who had spent most of the last five-and-a-half years at loggerheads were now speaking in tandem. "I told you already I don't mind if you're going out. I'm happy," he said slowly as if talking to two small children. "I – don't – want – any – more – rows."

Hermione continued to look uncertain but Ron took his hand away from Hermione's and began eating again as if the matter were closed.

"By the way," he said. "You missed a rotten party last night. The ghost orchestra was awful. 'Xpect you got a lot of work done, didn't you? Wish I had," he added though Harry doubted he wished anything of the sort.

"Oh, I don't think Harry got very much work done last night," said a voice to their left.

Harry turned around to notice that Fred had moved away from the conversation about the size of Lee's new tarantulas and was listening to their every word.

"He wasn't doing much studying at all when we were up there," said George, a horribly evil twinkle in his eye. "He seemed a bit preoccupied."

"With what?" asked Ron.

"With whom, more like," replied George.

Harry felt a horrible sensation in the pit of his stomach as he became aware that Parvati, Lavender, Dean, Fred, George, and Lee had all now abandoned their conversations and were hanging on every word.

"I won't mention any names," said Fred, "but she has red curly hair and we've known her rather a long time."

Hermione let out a sudden quick gasp but managed to cover it before Harry noticed.

"Ginny?" said Ron between bites of roast potatoes. He shook his head dismissively. "Harry doesn't fancy her," he said with conviction. "Of course, she used to have that crush thing on him but apparently she's over that now, according to Hermione, anyway."

Harry looked up at Hermione for confirmation but found she seemed to have become very interested in the texture of her mushy peas. He darted a nervous glance at the others who all pretended to turn and look the other way, all except for Fred and George who continued to sit there grinning. But then Dean, looking strangely uncomfortable, got up very suddenly and quickly excused himself saying something about needing to get back to work. Harry was thinking how much it reminded him of what Ginny had said to him earlier that morning when a very strange thought suddenly occurred to him. He vaguely remembered hearing from Ron that Ginny had broken up with Dean just after the beginning of the term and now that he thought about it, he remembered they had had a fight at lunch one day although he had been trying his best not to pay attention at the time. But surely he wasn't thinking -

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when Hedwig fluttered down to the table in front of him with another official-looking Hogwarts letter in her beak.

"Not Snape again," said Ron.

Harry took the envelope and opened it carefully, not quite sure what was going to come exploding out of it this time. He found a thick parchment containing a short letter composed in elegant handwriting:

Dear Mr. Potter,

The time has come for us to begin our extended lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which I understand Professor Dumbledore discussed with you at the beginning of term. I see from your schedule that you do not have any other obligations this afternoon at 4 o'clock. I would like you to meet me then on the small field adjacent to the Quidditch pitch.

Sincerely,

A. Nevins

The parchment was signed with both the red Hogwarts seal and another imprinted seal under Nevins' name. Harry studied the seal carefully. A wizened-looking wizard who reminded Harry of Dumbledore held up a wand which was emitting sparks. The wizard moved back and forth as if searching carefully for something, causing the very texture of the parchment itself to change as it did so. All around the imprint of the wizard in a circle were written the words:

ORDER OF MERLIN, SECOND CLASS

Harry looked at the seal with interest for a moment. He knew of only three other people who had received the Order of Merlin: Dumbledore, who had received the Order of Merlin, First Class; Wormtail, who had received the Order of Merlin, Second Class for confronting Sirius; and Gilderoy Lockhart, who had never ceased reminding people that he had received the Order of Merlin, Third Class. Harry knew that the Order of Merlin was not given out lightly. Nearly everyone in the wizarding world knew of the awards that Dumbledore, Wormtail, and Lockhart had received. But Harry had never before known that Nevins had received the award, too. Dumbledore hadn't told him, nor had Nevins himself. He wondered why.

"He didn't give you much notice, did he?" said Ron, who was now looking at the letter that Harry had let fall thoughtfully to the table.

"I suppose he wants to keep me on my toes," replied Harry. "I wonder why he didn't start the lessons before now."

Ron shrugged.

Just then, one of the school owls flew down and dropped a letter in front of Hermione. She opened it up and read it as Ron looked over her shoulder.

"It's from Hagrid," she explained to Harry. "He wants to know if we can come for tea at three-thirty. I think I should say yes."

"But my lesson with Nevins is at four," protested Harry. "Can't he make it tomorrow?"

Hermione looked a little anxious. "I don't think so, Harry. I think we'd better go today."

"You don't think he's mad at us, do you?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Hermione hesitantly. "Not exactly but I still think we ought to go. Even if it's just for a short while, Harry," she added to him.

Ron and Harry shrugged their agreement and the three of them picked up their plates and left the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione started holding hands again and hurried a little faster out of the hall as Fred and George broke into another round of applause on their retreat.

* * *

Hagrid poured out four cups of tea and frowned down at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I didn't say nothin' to no one, o' course," he said. "Sure yeh had a good reason, but all the same." He looked down at them expectantly.

Harry wasn't sure if he should be the one to say something. Then Ron slowly took hold of Hermione's hand.

Hagrid looked down at them curiously.

Ron cleared his throat and a deep red began to suffuse his cheeks. "Er, well, Hagrid, H – H – Hermione and I…." He broke off and looked a little hesitantly at Hermione.

Hermione smiled confidently and drew his hand closer to hers. " – are going out," she finished, smiling.

Harry couldn't help smiling himself as a boyish grin broke over Ron's face. Hagrid gave a triumphant yell which Harry was sure would blow the roof off the top of his cottage and Fang responded with an alarmed bark. Ron's grin did not fade even when Hagrid pulled him and Hermione into a bone-crushing hug and decided to celebrate by offering them some of his infamous treacle fudge.

"Always knew yeh'd end up together," said Hagrid beaming, apparently having forgotten all about the missed class. "Said so to Fang years ago. Mind yeh take good care o' her now." He wagged a finger at Ron.

Ron nodded a little stupidly, the grin not leaving his face.

Hagrid kept smiling as he looked at Ron and Hermione holding hands. His smile faded slightly when he turned to Harry who was studying his treacle fudge warily.

"Never mind now, Harry," he said. "There's plenty o' time left fer yeh."

Harry shrugged.

Hagrid mock-threatened the three of them with a detention if Ron and Hermione didn't tell him the full account of their strange transition from friendship to love. They both contradicted each other with the details but seemed in too good a mood to let this spill over into an argument. The hut shook on several occasions as Hagrid let up occasional shouts.

Finally, Harry said:

"Er, Hagrid, I hope you don't mind if I go. Only, I've got to meet Professor Nevins for extra Defense lessons."

"Sure, sure, off with yeh, then," replied Hagrid, still smiling. "Say, er, Harry?" he said again as Harry was about to walk out of the door. "Yeh've been having extra lessons now?"

"This is the first one, actually."

Hagrid seemed to frown for a moment. "Ever get to talkin' with, er, Professor Nevins?"

Harry regarded Hagrid curiously. "Just in class. Why?"

Harry was certain it was his imagination but for a moment he thought he saw a flash of fear move over Hagrid's features but then he smiled again.

"Oh, it's nothin'," he assured Harry. "Off with yeh then. He won' like it if yeh late."

Somewhat reluctantly, Harry left the cabin and made his way toward the Quidditch pitch.

After he had left, Hagrid smiled at Hermione and Ron again.

"Well, yeh two." He shook his head. "Imagine that." He sighed. "If yeh don' mind now, I suppose I'd better be dealin' with these cabbage patches again; somethin' keeps comin' in the night and eatin' 'em all up. Dunno what it is, yet."

Ron stood up followed by a slightly reluctant Hermione.

"S – so about the class," Ron started nervously.

Hagrid made a sound like a neighing Hippogriff and waved his hand dismissively. "'S not every day yeh fall in love. Mind yeh, don' let it happen again."

"We won't," chorused Ron and Hermione.

"Good, now off with yeh."

Ron made toward the door but Hermione did not move. She suddenly looked a little anxious.

"Hagrid," she said. "I wonder if I could talk to you about something."

Hagrid looked a little surprised and checked his watch again.

"Please," said Hermione before Hagrid could protest that he had something to do. "It's very important. I'm worried about Harry."

* * *

Harry trotted quickly to the small field next to the Quidditch pitch which he had once used for practice when Slytherin had booked the regular field. He found Nevins sitting calmly on an incongruous swivel chair which Harry suspected he had conjured.

"Hello, Harry," said Nevins quietly as he approached.

"I'm not late, am I?" asked Harry, a little anxiously.

"I don't think so," said Nevins as if the matter did not concern him very much. He drew himself up a little and looked at Harry with a characteristically unreadable expression.

"Do you why you are here, Harry?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "Professor Dumbledore said that I was to receive extra Defense lessons."

"I have known Professor Dumbledore for a long time, Harry. He has told me that you have already developed exceptional defense skills. Of course, I wanted to see this for myself. That is why I have waited so long to begin our extra lessons."

Harry nodded. Professor Nevins seemed much different from the teacher who had kept the class on their toes all semester with a mixture of inscrutability and arrogance. He was speaking to Harry now with an unusual candor. Harry realized for the first time that Nevins had never called him by his first name during class but he was using it now as if they were good friends. He had the sudden impression Nevins realized Harry would not need any encouragement to pay attention in these extra lessons. Harry knew full well the power of the Dark Arts and Harry had no doubt that Nevins knew it, too.

"I am pleased to say," Nevins went on, "that Dumbledore was right. I can see now how the students in your 'Defense Association' last year, or should I say 'Dumbledore's Army?'" he added, seeming to enjoy a private joke with himself, "managed to improve so quickly. You will indeed make an excellent auror, if that is what you choose to do. But I'm afraid," he added, his expression darkening slightly, "that we are not here because of your future career. I'm afraid we are here to make sure you remain alive to have one."

Harry found himself taking a step backwards. He felt a sudden twinge of dislike at Nevins. He had spent a good part of the year trying to forget about the threat that hung over him the moment he left the friendly confines of Hogwarts and the surrounding area. He had convinced himself that he should trust Dumbledore, that he had everything under control, that the threat was, perhaps, not so great after all. And here was Nevins reminding him of the danger he still faced. As if he needed reminding.

But Harry just nodded. He did not want to discuss the matter with Nevins. He certainly did not want to show him that he was afraid.

Nevins took out his wand. "I think we'll start today with a relatively simple spell, learned by most aurors, but usually not taught until after N.E.W.T level. I imagine you will be able to master it, however, not without some difficulty, of course," he added, seeming to regain for a moment some of his usual classroom demeanor, "but master nonetheless."

Harry nodded again.

Nevins looked at Harry gravely. "I have no doubt you know full well, Harry," he said, almost softly, "the danger of ambush. I fear it is unlikely that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will simply send one or two Death Eaters after you. It is, I'm afraid, much more likely that he will send many of the Death Eaters at his disposal as he did when you and your friends were confronted at the Department of Mysteries."

Harry had not realized Nevins would have known about what had happened at the Ministry of Magic last spring, or at least his involvement in it. Dumbledore must trust him more than I realized, he thought.

"This spell can give you both the element of surprise and effective positioning from which to form a counter-attack," Nevins explained. "Watch closely."

He pointed his wand at himself and cried: "Levitatus."

Harry stepped back in awed surprise as Nevins quickly flew thirty feet into the air, twisted and turned, and then landed about twenty yards away. He performed the spell again and put down gracefully on the ground just in front of Harry, smiling.

"And now your turn, Harry. Enunciate: Lev-i-tat-us."

Harry took a small step away from Nevins who retreated himself. He took out his wand and was ashamed to see his hand trembling slightly. He clenched his fist and forced himself to calm down. He did not want Nevins to see that he was nervous about performing the spell. He took out his wand, pointed it at himself and cried:

"Levitatus!"

Harry swallowed his saliva as his feet left the ground and he rose high above Nevins who looked up at him. At first, he felt the pleasant sensation of weightlessness that sprang up whenever he flew on his Firebolt but after Harry had risen about several meters in the air, he became uncomfortably aware that there was no broomstick under his feet now. He felt his movement gradually begin to slow and knew he had reached the apex of his flight. Then sky and earth seemed to suddenly melt together as he plunged fast to the ground. The world kept spinning around him until he felt something smash very uncomfortably into his right hip and realized that he had landed very awkwardly back on the field.

Harry tried to stand up but winced as his hip throbbed in protest. He looked up to see Nevins standing over him, a half-smile spreading over his lips. The hip throbbed again and Nevins' face started to twist like a mirror at a carnival as tears of pain sprang to Harry's eyes. He forced them back.

"Not bad, Harry," said Nevins. "Not bad at all. You made good height on that one, for a first attempt. Now, try to visualize when you say the spell. Imagine yourself as a bird flying in the sky, or flying on your broomstick," he added, pleased with himself at the idea. "Yes, Harry, imagine yourself flying on your Firebolt. That will help you to get more height."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to get more height if he did not first learn how to control himself while he was in the air. But that was the last thing he wanted to tell Nevins. He just nodded to him, pointed his wand at himself and then closed his eyes and imagined himself flying high above the Quidditch pitch in a game, searching the ground below him for the golden snitch.

To Harry's horror, this visualization worked even better than he had feared. He flew into the sky like a rocket, flying higher than the trees and almost as high as the stands in the adjacent Quidditch pitch. He experienced again the same sensation of freedom that coursed through his body as he glided around the sky on his broomstick.

But this feeling was very short-lived indeed. He felt himself start to slow down and plunge horribly fast to the earth. He imagined the pain that would seer through his body as he landed hard on the ground. He willed himself to slow down, to stop tumbling, to gain some kind of control over his movement. For a moment, he steadied himself and found he was gliding down like a fly with his legs and arms outstretched. He looked down and saw Nevins looking back up at him. He wondered if the Defense teacher would cast a spell to slow his fall. For a moment, he thought that he must do: Harry would be horribly hurt as soon as he hit the ground. Nevins would not want that, surely? Surely it would defeat the purpose of learning new Defense Against the Dark Arts spells if he was too badly hurt to use them? But Nevins stood on the ground impassively with his arms folded and his wand tucked back into his cloak. Almost immediately after he saw this, Harry felt himself tumbling again. Sky and earth churned together like yolk and white in an egg beater. Harry gritted his teeth and steeled himself against the pain of hitting the ground.

But no, he thought to himself suddenly. He would not resign to the pain. Nevins had landed upright and so could he. Harry realized he was still clutching his wand in his hand. Perhaps he could slow his fall. But no, he realized, remembering with dread his steady fall to the ground when Lucius Malfoy had stolen his Firebolt. He had not known any spells that could save him then and he still did not know any now. More out of desperation than hope, Harry stretched out his wand and pointed it in a steady horizontal direction. He did not use any spell but he suddenly felt his body begin to right itself, even if he was still traveling at a fast speed. He was now looking at the ground again. Keeping his wand steady, he moved his body to a vertical position and succeeded in landing feet first on the earth. Such was the hard impact, however, that Harry immediately fell into a rough heap, this time on his left hip. Both of his hips and ankles throbbed in pain and this time, the best Harry could do was sit up on the ground as Nevins walked over to him.

"I see you've learned how to control yourself in mid-air," he remarked casually. "In time you'll find that if you level yourself when you begin to fall, you'll be able to use your wand to cast defense spells against your attackers below."

Harry could not imagine how he would ever graduate to this level when he hardly felt able to stand on his own two feet.

Nevins stretched out a hand to pull him up. "You've made great progress. We'll spend the rest of the lesson learning something a little more subtle. I wouldn't want you to end up in the hospital wing after your first session."

But Harry did not take hold of Nevins' hand. Instead, he hoisted himself up painfully on his protesting ankles. "No," he said.

Nevins raised an eyebrow.

"I want to learn this spell and get it right – today," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Nevins didn't say anything for a moment, appearing to consider Harry's request. "Very well, Harry," he said finally.

They continued to practice for at least another hour. Each time, Harry flew higher into the sky and eventually further from his original position. And each time, the fear of pain forced him to concentrate hard to steady his fall until, at last, he landed with his own two feet on the ground, stumbled a little then, like a gymnast tumbling off a balance beam, steadied himself and did not fall.

Nevins jogged over to him, clapping. "Very good, Harry," he said. "Very good, indeed. You've exceeded my expectations. And now, I think we'd better end the lesson here. And I'm afraid you will have to go up to the hospital wing."

"I – don't – need – " Harry croaked in pain, unable to finish his sentence. Every bone in his body seemed to have landed on the ground at least once during the exercise and all of them stung.

"You are very brave," said Nevins, almost inaudibly. "Like your friend Ron. And your father."

Harry looked up at Nevins suddenly. "Professor Dumbledore said you knew my father?"

"Yes, Harry. I taught him as I am teaching you. I was Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts when your father was at school here. He, like you, showed exceptional defense skills."

"But I thought – Professor Dumbledore said you were an auror?"

"I was. I left Hogwarts your father's sixth year to go into training as an auror. I thought I could make a much greater contribution in the fight against You-Know-Who as an auror than sitting in front of a classroom at Hogwarts. I completed my training and served as an auror for many years. But as I told your friend Ron, I was sorted into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor. I always had a quick mind but you need more than a quick mind to be an auror. You need bravery. And you are brave, Harry."

"But Professor Nevins," said Harry. "I'm sure you must have been brave. You received the Order of Merlin, Second Class. It said so on your note."

Nevins lips became very drawn. "I wish it didn't. The Order of Merlin comes with an unbreakable spell. It seals itself onto every letter written by the bearer to guard against," Nevins smiled ironically, "modesty."

"But why wouldn't you want people to know you received the Order of Merlin? Surely it's a great honor. You must have done something – "

Nevins' face grew very dark. "That's enough for today, Harry," he said sharply. "Now, please, get up to the hospital wing."

Harry wanted to open his mouth again but he could see that he had touched a nerve. Whatever it was, Nevins wasn't willing to discuss it, not to him at least. He nodded slowly and made his way stiffly across the lawn. Nevins made it clear he would walk Harry to the hospital wing himself. When they reached the hospital wing, Harry was slightly surprised when Professor Nevins told Madam Pomfrey that he had received some injuries while practicing Quidditch, and that Nevins had found him and helped him to the ward.

Harry did not seem to hear Madam Pomfrey as she fussed about his various wounds, complained that he had a broken right hip (which she mended with great ease), and that Quidditch would be the death of him sooner or later. He was thinking about his talk with Professor Nevins. Why had he seemed almost ashamed to receive the Order of Merlin? Was he a fraud, just like Lockhart and Wormtail? Harry was still not quite sure what to make of his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but somehow he felt this didn't ring true.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey told him with typical reluctance that he was free to go but that he must make sure to get plenty of rest. Harry had no intention of disobeying her this time. It was nearly time for dinner but Harry did not feel hungry. He made his way up to Gryffindor Tower. He wondered if Ron and Hermione were about and what they would think of his Dark Arts lesson and Nevins' strange secret.

But when Harry reached the common room he saw right away that he wouldn't be talking to either of them anytime soon. Ron lay curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. Hermione lay on top of him, also asleep, her unruly hair scattered across his chest. Both of his two friends wore smiles of contentment and serenity as if falling asleep in each other's arms was the most natural thing they had ever done. Harry wanted to feel happy for them: he felt as exhausted as they looked yet his face could not seem to curl in the same blissful manner. Sighing, he walked up the stairs to his dormitory, got into bed, and fell quickly asleep. He did not wake again until the following morning.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood by himself in the same clearing that he had stirred the cauldron all night now two weeks prior. A sharp crack through the air announced the arrival of another wizard.

Dumbledore showed no surprise. He had been expecting this visitor. But he was not anxious to stop what he was doing either. This was not a conversation to which he had been looking forward.

Remus Lupin stood in front of him. His face looked as gaunt and thin as ever but his eyes still had the same sparkle Dumbledore remembered from his youthful days as a Hogwarts student. Yet he did not smile and Dumbledore was fairly sure he knew why.

"You have discovered something," said the headmaster simply.

"I followed the Death Eaters as you asked. I was not detected. As you rightly surmised, no one suspects that a hag can come up to much of anything."

Dumbledore nodded patiently, waiting for Lupin to continue.

"The Death Eaters made an attempt to break through into the mental barricades surrounding Hogwarts last night, a second one apparently. Voldemort wanted to make his first attempt hadn't been a fluke. He was trying to get into someone's mind. One of the students at the school. I could not find out who."

A flicker of surprise moved over Dumbledore's face.

"Did they succeed?" he asked tentatively.

"No. Voldemort was very unhappy. He – he – punished a great many of his Death Eaters." Lupin shuddered.

Dumbledore nodded.

"And did Voldemort say why he thought they had failed?"

"I stayed as far away from him as I could, on your instructions and he did not see me, I'm sure. But it seemed that he blamed his Death Eaters for not following his instructions carefully enough. But the Death Eaters themselves couldn't fathom the reason. They all insisted they'd done exactly as he'd told them to."

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus?"

Lupin hesitated for a moment. He hoped he had mistaken it but he could have sworn there was a trace of uncertainty in Dumbledore's voice as he spoke the acting headmaster's name.

"He was not involved, not so far as I could tell at least, but I might be wrong," Lupin added quickly.

There was a moment of silence. Then Dumbledore said:

"Thank you, Remus. Please continue to tread carefully."

But Lupin did not move.

"There is something more you wish to say to me."

"Do you really trust him, Dumbledore? You have shut yourself off to everyone else in the Order. You're relying completely on his eyes and his information."

"Not completely, Remus. That is why I have you."

"But you won't tell me what's going on?"

"The more people I tell, the more dangerous it becomes for all of us, not the least you, my friend."

"We've been over this before." A faint note of impatience crept into Lupin's voice. "But can you rely on Severus Snape? After all the things he did when he was a Death Eater? All those people he killed? Do you really believe he reformed – totally? Why?"

Dumbledore nodded without hesitation. "Severus is a member of the Order. And I trust everyone who is in the Order."

Lupin sighed.

"What else would you have me do, Remus? Voldemort would never trust anyone else in the Order."

Lupin's feeling of anxiousness grew. This was hardly a ringing endorsement of Snape's trustworthiness.

"Just think!" Lupin went on. "Just suppose: what if it wasn't just a personal grudge against Harry and James that led him to stop teaching Harry Occlumency last year? What if that was just an excuse? What if he knew that if he stopped training Harry, Voldemort could enter his mind again and lead him back to the Department of Mysteries? What if that was what he had wanted all along? And we've only his word that he went looking for Harry in the forest that night. No one else saw him. What if he never lifted a finger?"

Dumbledore sighed. "All perfectly reasonable questions. I still choose to trust."

Lupin could see that this conversation was going nowhere. He only hoped that some of the questions he'd raised had sunk into his stubborn interlocutor. And he hadn't run out things to ask yet, either.

"If Voldemort is trying to enter Harry's mind again, why does he need to break through the school's defenses to do it? He didn't need to last year."

Dumbledore considered this question for a moment not, Lupin suspected, because he did not know the answer, but because he wondered whether Lupin could safely be told.

"It is not Harry whom Voldemort is trying to reach this time," he said simply.

"I see," said Lupin, sensing that Dumbledore was not prepared to say anything more. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, Albus," he added softly.

Dumbledore looked Lupin straight in the eye.

"These are dangerous times."

Lupin stared at Dumbledore for a moment longer, then nodded, took a step backward, and tensed himself to disapparate but before he could do so, Dumbledore held up his index finger.

"One more thing, Remus," he said, an odd look of worry on his face. "Do you think that Harry will continue to trust me?"

Remus sighed. "I think he will, when it comes to it. But I must ask you that if Harry knew what it was you are planning, would he still continue to hold that trust?"

Dumbledore did not answer right away. Then a horrible sadness filled his eyes.

"No," he said, shaking his head gravely. "I'm very much afraid he would not."


	14. The Season Of Giving

Chapter 14

The Season Of Giving

Ginny walked into the Gryffindor common room the following night to find Ron, Harry, and Hermione studying together at the long oak table next to the fireplace. Since there were many students walking in and out of the portrait hole at that time, none of them stopped to look up. She was about to greet them but then something made her stop. She found herself looking at Ron and Hermione for a moment with curiosity. They were both sitting very close together. Ron was peering over the top of Hermione's paper.

"Ron, just because we're going out, it doesn't mean you can copy the answers from my paper," Hermione was saying.

"I always copied the answers from your paper before we were going out," Ron protested.

"But you won't always be able to copy from me," replied Hermione.

"Why not?" Ron grinned sheepishly.

Hermione couldn't seem to find an answer for this but Ginny noticed that her cheeks went slightly pink.

Ginny also noticed that Harry, who sat across from Ron and Hermione with his back to Ginny, was alternately looking at a book and writing on a parchment. He did not appear to pay any attention to Ron and Hermione's conversation but Ginny found herself doubting he was really so disinterested.

Ginny's eyebrows arched significantly as Ron's hand moved to Hermione's knee.

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione said calmly, putting her quill down, and going even more pink. "If you think you are going to persuade me, then – "

But Hermione's own words were interrupted when she started to giggle and after a moment she and Ron were staring into each other's eyes. Harry looked up to see what had caused Hermione to stop talking and then quickly looked back down again at his own work.

"Hi," said Ginny suddenly, not quite succeeding at repressing a giggle.

Ron and Hermione looked up startled. Ron immediately took his hand away from Hermione's knee and replaced it on his lap. Ginny recognized the look on his face from the time their mother had caught him stealing the Chocolate Frogs she had saved them all for Christmas. Hermione also went pink but still smiled up at Ginny. Harry turned around and smiled, too, but Ginny felt his smile looked much more forced than Hermione's.

"Hi, Ginny," said Hermione as Ron broke into a coughing fit. "Erm, so, how are you doing? We haven't talked in ages." Hermione gave Ginny a meaningful look and jerked her head, not very subtly, Ginny thought, in the direction of the girls' dormitory.

"Oh," replied Ginny brusquely, her smile fading. . "I'm afraid I have to study now. Maybe we can talk later."

Without waiting for Hermione's response, she walked quickly in the direction of her dormitory.

Hermione did not take the hint, however. Ginny kept walking and pretended not to hear her say to Harry and Ron:

"I think I've left something up in my room. Just be a minute."

Ginny increased her pace as she walked up the stairs but she could hear Hermione walking even faster behind her. She had almost reached the door to the fifth-years' room when Hermione tugged on the sleeve of her robes.

"Ginny!" she said in a stage whisper.

Ginny turned around, pretending to look surprised to see Hermione there.

"Hermione?" she asked innocently.

The expression on Hermione's face reminded Ginny of a struggling Mandrake.

"We have to talk!"

"About what?"

"Ginny!" said Hermione again. "I haven't seen you in two days. I heard you were with Harry, the night of the ball. How did it go?"

"Terrible," replied Ginny airily.. "I've given up on the whole thing, Hermione. He doesn't like me and I'm not going to hurt myself anymore by trying to like him. I should have listened to you the first time we talked."

Ginny broke free of Hermione's grip and went to open her door but Hermione grabbed her shoulder again.

"Ginny, wait! Was it that bad? I can't imagine Harry being that terrible to you."

"He wasn't terrible at all. He just made it clear that he wasn't interested in a relationship."

"Did you tell him you liked him then?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening.

"Well, not exactly, but – "

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then how do you know he doesn't like you? He just said it, out of the blue? That doesn't sound like him."

"Because – " Ginny started to speak but then stopped almost immediately and sighed. "It would take too long to explain."

Hermione responded by opening the door to the empty sixth-year's room and inviting Ginny inside.

"I think the fortune queens are out with Trelawney," she explained.

Ginny hesitated.

"Come on, Ginny," said Hermione. "You owe me this much."

Reluctantly, Ginny followed Hermione into the room and Hermione closed the door behind them.

Hermione sat down on her bed and tried to look calm but Ginny noticed she kept fidgeting with her hands. Ginny was not quite sure where to begin but started off by saying:

"Well, before you say anything, you should know about what happened at breakfast the morning after. He – "

"Breakfast the morning after? No, Ginny, begin at the beginning."

"But – " Ginny started and then sighed. "OK."

And so Ginny launched into the full account of her evening with Harry. Hermione managed not to interrupt although Ginny could see it was not without great effort on her part. Ginny did not tell Hermione about the nightmare, however, and changed the story slightly so that Neville had started talking to them about the dance instead of leading them down to look at Ron and Hermione kissing. Hermione's eyes widened like large orbs when Harry asked the question about the Valentine and Ginny could see she was on the point of interrupting so she quickly launched into the epilogue of her conversation with Harry at breakfast the day before.

Hermione looked at Ginny with a puzzled frown on her face and asked:

"And that's all?"

"Yes," replied Ginny. "I've hardly seen him since then except at Quidditch practice."

"So nothing else happened?"

"No." Ginny's shoulders sank.

Ginny expected Hermione to look disappointed but instead she jumped up from where she was sitting on her bed and broke into a cheer. She then jumped up and down on her bed several times like she was practicing on a trampoline and ran around the room in her best impression of a three-year-old.

"I didn't know you would be so happy to see things go sour," remarked Ginny.

Hermione responded by jumping on top of Ginny and grabbing her into a hug with such a force that Ginny fell backwards onto Lavender's bed.

"Hermione!" she protested.

But Hermione's smile did not fade. She took hold of Ginny's hands.

"Oh, but Ginny! Don't you see? He likes you! I wasn't sure of it before but now I know he must do."

"What gives you that idea?"

"He asked you about the Valentine. He never would have done that if he wasn't interested in you. He wouldn't have cared whether you'd sent it him or not. Not Harry. He wouldn't want to know otherwise."

Ginny was very confused. "But Hermione, if he likes me, why did he try to take back what he said?"

"Well, he doesn't know he likes you, of course," replied Hermione as if it were obvious. "And, of course," she added pensively half to herself. "He's probably not comfortable with the feeling."

"I'm not sure that sounds much like liking someone to me."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "It's nothing about you, Ginny. It's just because he's afraid of getting too close to anyone right now. Like we talked about before. And it's so much that he can't even admit to himself that he likes anyone. Any feelings like that he buries as far down as he can now to protect himself and, I suppose, to protect others."

"I told you I understand what he's feeling!" Ginny protested. "Why can't he see that it's safe to open up to me?"

"You told me, Ginny, but did you tell Harry?"

"Well, not directly, but we've been spending a lot of time together, that was up until the ball. I would have thought by now that he could see – "

But Hermione was shaking his head. "He's not going to see, Ginny, believe me, not unless you tell it right to his face. That's just the way he is."

Ginny sighed and nodded. She knew in her heart that Hermione was right. If she wanted Harry to know that she cared for him and if there was any chance he would care for her in return, she would have to say it to his face. That was a lesson she should have learned a long time ago.

"And t-there's another thing," Hermione went on, a little haltingly. "Something I didn't know about when we talked before. I don't know if I should tell you but – "

"If you're talking about the prophecy, I already know. And, no, you shouldn't have told me."

Hermione looked up surprised.

"Did he tell you himself?" she asked, a little hopefully.

Ginny shook her head. "I was there, the night he told you. I was sitting by the fire and no one saw me. But I came out after you and Ron left and Harry and I talked."

Hermione let out a breath and spoke very fast as though she was afraid she wouldn't finish her sentence otherwise. "OK, Ginny, so then you must realize that Harry isn't going to want anyone to get close to him because he's afraid that he's going to die and he doesn't want to have to leave anyone behind."

"Doesn't he know it's already too late for that?" said Ginny, exasperated. "Does he think no one will miss him when he's gone? And does he think that some prophecy changes the fact that he isn't the only one with a score to settle with You-Know-Who?"

"I know, Ginny," said Hermione, as gently as she could. "I've tried to tell him that but – "

"No!" Ginny was shouting now. "You didn't try to tell him that at all! I was there! You got in some stupid little fight with Ron and then went up to bed! You didn't say anything – "

"Ginny, I'm trying to help you!" Hermione retorted. "And him! Why do you think I worry so much that Ron and I being together will make him feel even more alone? Why do you think I want the two of you to… "

Hermione's voice trailed as she realized the direction her own logic was taking her but Ginny's eyes were already wide with realization.

"So that's why you were so eager to find out what happened to Harry and me. You're guilty, Hermione. Goddess, you've been guilty for years."

Hermione flinched as if she had been struck across the face. "I'm not guilty," she replied. "Guilty about what?"

But Ginny didn't seem to have heard her. "You didn't tell Ron that you liked him for years because you were afraid to leave Harry alone."

"No, Ginny, that's not how – " Hermione started to protest but in her mind, she could already see herself talking to Ron in Dumbledore's office, saying that now that Harry was dead, they could be "honest with each other."

"But then after he asked you to the dance, the potion was out of the bottle, wasn't it?" Ginny went on as Hermione found out harder to look at her. "It must have seemed very fortunate that I had already told you I had feelings for Harry again. And wouldn't it be nice if Harry and I could get together? And then all four of us could all be friends and live happily ever after? All the guilt would go away. Isn't that what you're thinking, Hermione? But suppose Harry doesn't want that? Suppose he doesn't want to be with anyone at all? Or suppose he wants to be with someone else?"

"He does want you, Ginny," said Hermione with conviction, forcing herself to look up at her younger friend again. "I know it. You've got to believe me. Y – you just have to, I don't know, don't let him forget about you. Don't make it easy for him."

Ginny looked at Hermione thoughtfully, then after a long pause said:

"OK, I'll see how he reacts to a little encouragement. But I can't go on like this forever. I feel like I'm being pulled up and down like a yo-yo. First I felt good after the dance then I felt rotten the next morning."

And then there were the nightmares, too, Ginny thought, but said nothing about this to Hermione.

"You'll have to show a bit more than encouragement, Ginny. You're going to have to tell him directly – "

"I know, I know." Ginny clenched her fists. "It's – it's just not so easy to say it right out. I will, though, eventually, I promise." She looked imploringly back at Hermione. "Look, I'm sorry about all the things I said. I know you're trying to help."

Hermione's face softened. She knew how Ginny was feeling. It wasn't long ago that she hadn't been very open about her feelings to Ron. She put her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "It will get better, Ginny, I promise. And if he doesn't show you anything back, I won't say anymore. Now, come on. They'll wonder where we've got to."

Hermione took hold of Ginny's hand and guided her out of the door ahead of her. Ginny went to her room to get her bag and Hermione walked down to sit next to Harry and Ron.

Ron looked up at Hermione a little suspiciously. "You were a long time."

"I was looking for a parchment but it seems to have disappeared."

Several days before, Ron would not have been satisfied with this answer but when Hermione smiled and took hold of his hand, his doubts and questions seemed to vanish like a mirage.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked back down at their work. After a few moments, Ginny walked over with her bag and, without any apparent hesitation, sat down next to Harry.

Ron immediately took his hand away from Hermione and frowned at Ginny. Ginny tried to ignore him at first but Ron kept looking up and scowling at her.

"Am I bothering you?" his sister asked coolly.

"Your friends aren't around?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Actually, they're over there." Ginny pointed to a table at the other end of the room where Amanda, Catherine, and Colin were sitting.

Ron looked at the other table, then back at Ginny again.

"Look, Ginny, I – "

"I don't mind if Ginny studies with us."

It was Harry who spoke. Her cheeks flushing slightly, Ginny looked up at her brother and said:

"Ron, I'm not going to hex you if you hold hands with Hermione."

Ron's face turned the color of a strawberry but Hermione put her hand back in his. Ron pretended to shrug nonchalantly, then tried to pick up his quill but realized that his right hand was still locked with Hermione's. He looked from hand to quill thoughtfully and was surprised to see both Harry and Ginny suppressing giggles.

"Bet he wishes he was left-handed," said Harry to Ginny conspiratorially.

And then Hermione smiled, too. Slowly, the four of them settled down their work, Ron reluctantly uncoupling his hand. Every so often, Hermione looked over at Ginny. She could see that, while Ginny's smile had faded, her eyes remained bright and her cheeks slightly flushed for the remainder of the evening. She knew that Harry's approval of her studying with them and their shared joke about Ron had done much more than any of the things she had said to Ginny in her dormitory to convince her that Hermione had been right.

* * *

December came much sooner than anyone seemed to have expected. Hagrid was seen dragging snow around the hallways, much to Filch's consternation, occasionally humming Christmas carols as he brought in gigantic holly wreaths from outside. Harry continued his Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with Nevins once a week, still trying to master the Levitatus charm. He was grateful when a blanket of thick snow covered the ground during the second week of the month, which made his bumpy landings somewhat less painful. After their fourth session, Harry finally managed to land a few mid-air jinxes at the straw Death Eaters Nevins had conjured on the ground.

Even though their next match wasn't until the following term, Harry continued to drive the Quidditch team to practice several times a week. He only postponed one practice, with great reluctance, when a snowstorm made it impossible for him to see what the team was doing out of his glasses. Even Hermione's Impervius spell seemed to have no effect on clearing them.

Their lessons also seemed to settle into a somewhat manageable routine. Beethoven, who turned out to be female, had given birth to puppies which seemed to scream even louder than their mother. Parvati had to be sent to the hospital wing, crying that her left ear had gone deaf after one of the babies had jumped on top of her head when she wasn't looking and trumpeted into it.

Professor Nevins continued to keep the regular Defense Against the Dark Arts classes on their toes and maintained his strange rapport with Ron. He remained somewhat distant to Harry in class, however, in contrast to their private lessons in which he behaved like a close mentor.

By the far the most feared lessons, however, were Potions. On one occasion, a dense cloud of blue vapor had erupted unexpectedly from out of the top of Professor Dibble's cauldron and eaten a hole in the ceiling large enough for a frightened first-year boy to fall down from the Transfiguration classroom above onto Dibble's desk. Rumors flew around the school that Snape had only been asked to take on the headmaster's job at the last minute and that they hadn't had time to find a proper replacement for him. The fifth years were seen to be particularly anxious as this was their O.W.L. year and it seemed they hadn't learned anything in Potions the whole term, although they did admit that the class had afforded them several unexpected opportunities to practice their new Defense Against the Dark Arts skills. No one dared approach the subject with Professor Snape, however, and not even following the most gruesome failures in Professor Dibble's classroom was any student (other than the Slytherins) heard to pine for his return. The acting headmaster himself seemed in two minds as to how to treat Harry when the two would occasionally pass in the corridor. There were times when Snape almost seemed to smile at him, albeit with great difficulty. But just when Harry had gotten used to Snape's new regard for him, he found himself met with the cold stares to which he had become accustomed in five years as Snape's student.

As the weeks passed, Ron and Hermione became much more comfortable in each other's company. They continued to hold hands nearly everywhere they went, although Harry noticed that Ron no longer behaved as if he thought Hermione would run away forever if they let go. In all the time he had known his friends, Harry couldn't recall things ever having been so quiet. It almost seemed like Ron and Hermione had said all they needed to say to one another (at least while Harry was around). They still seemed to disagree on nearly everything but neither was inclined to keep an argument going for very long as if the rows, as Harry now strongly suspected, had always been a kind of elaborate courtship ritual whose usefulness was now at an end.

Ginny continued to study with them on occasion, always sitting next to Harry. She sometimes talked to the three of them but mostly concentrated on her own work. Harry wasn't quite sure why she was doing this. He thought perhaps she might want their help since they were a year older than she was. Harry offered Ginny some advice on one or two of her parchments for Defense Against the Dark Arts which Ginny seemed to accept gratefully, but looking over at her work, Harry could see that, most of the time, she didn't seem to need the advice. But just when the reason for Ginny's proximity seemed to vex Harry to the point that he even thought of asking her why she was sitting with them, he would enter the common room to find her studying with her fifth-year friends as if nothing had changed.

Harry was pleased that he had managed to steer clear of Malfoy lately. In the past, Malfoy would never miss an opportunity to goad him during any of their shared lessons, especially Care of Magical Creatures. But now Malfoy seemed strangely sullen and withdrawn. He occasionally gave Harry a dark, almost calculating look but turned away as soon as he saw Harry watching him. He was still flanked by Crabbe and Goyle in class, whose own behavior seemed to have changed little, but on the several occasions Harry had seen Malfoy walking around the corridors, he often seemed to be alone. Harry could see that Snape still hadn't given him back his prefect badge and wondered if this was the source of his withdrawn behavior.

Malfoy had also started to stare at Ron and Hermione and his eyes fell on more than one occasion to their coupled hands. It didn't take long for Ron to grow annoyed at this and so, one day, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were leaving the Great Hall after lunch at the same time as Malfoy and his gaze rested again on the two lovers, Ron decided to take action. Without letting go of Hermione's hand, he called over to Malfoy.

"Is there something I can help you with, Draco?"

Malfoy stopped walking and took a hesitant step closer to Ron and Hermione who held their ground.

"Nothing at all, Weasley," he scowled in reply, his eyes wandering again to Ron and Hermione's hands.

"Feeling jealous, are we?" asked Ron. "What's the matter, Malfoy? Pansy playing hard to get?"

Harry looked over and noticed that Hermione was staring at Malfoy just as defiantly as Ron. Before Malfoy could respond, Ron had pulled Hermione into a long kiss that earned giggles and whistles from a crowd of passing third-years. After they finished the kiss, they continued to hold onto each other and Hermione started to run her fingers almost casually through Ron's hair. Both of them stared at Malfoy, daring him to make a remark.

Malfoy's face turned a pale, almost green color, as he advanced slowly on Ron and Hermione, his lips very thin. At the last minute, he seemed to ignore Hermione as if she was not worthy of his attention and drew himself up inches from Ron's face.

"You know, Weasley," he said, almost in a whisper. "I must admit I've never had much respect for you or your family as it is. But at least you were still pure bloods. That you can just stand there and exchange your bodily fluids with that thing – "

Wham!

Before anyone knew what had happened, Ron's right hand had left Hermione's hair and connected hard with Malfoy's jaw. Malfoy fell over and landed on the ground. When he looked up, Harry saw blood coming out of his mouth from the same wound Ron had opened earlier that term when Malfoy had taken Harry for a ride on his broomstick. Harry looked at Ron and saw his face flushed with rage and his knuckle still clenched. From years of experience with his best friend and their past altercations with Malfoy, Harry had the sense Ron was going to strike again and was about to move forward to restrain him when he heard a distinctly thick Scottish accent cry:

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up in trepidation to see Professor McGonagall making her way down the corridor toward them with surprising swiftness. The three Gryffindors and Malfoy froze as McGonagall advanced on Ron.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?"

"He – he," Ron started to protest, pointing down at Malfoy who began to groan and clutch the side of his face.

"I don't know how many times this is going to happen before you can get it into your bloody thick skull, Mr. Weasley," cried McGonagall, her face scarlet. "I don't care what he does to provoke you, you can't go around hitting him like that. You're not a child anymore, Mr. Weasley. You're supposed to be a prefect! What kind of example do you think you are setting for the younger students? Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor for your shameful act!"

"Fifty points!" protested Ron.

"And a detention," added McGonagall firmly. "You will meet me tonight in my office at 8:00. And, naturally, your prefect privileges are hereby suspended."

McGonagall unfastened Ron's prefect badge only slightly less viciously than Snape had relieved Malfoy of his earlier on in the year.

"What?" croaked Ron. "Professor McGonagall, please, no! When my Mum finds out about this – "

"You should have thought of that earlier, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall coldly. "Mr. Malfoy." She looked down at Malfoy ignoring Ron's expressions of shock. "Please come with me to the hospital wing."

Malfoy suddenly stopped groaning and looked threateningly at Ron. "If you don't mind professor," he said. "I think I can see myself there."

"Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall, her tone still polite but her smile slightly more forced. "I think I'd rather accompany you if you don't mind. I wouldn't want you to get lost on the way." She looked up at Ron meaningfully.

Malfoy frowned again as McGonagall helped him to his feet. He made no effort to wipe the blood from his face which had now splattered down the front of his robes. Although Malfoy continued to glare at Ron, Harry thought he would leave without incident but just as McGonagall led him past Ron, he leaned over to him and said in a loud whisper:

"Enjoy her while you can, Weasley. Her days are numbered. I'm warning you. You'll see." His eyes flashed.

"Mr. Malfoy!" shouted McGonagall. "That is enough! One more word and I'll take points from Slytherin, too." She grabbed his arm and took him off to the hospital wing.

Harry looked at his two friends, who were now standing in the middle of a circle of onlookers. Ron still looked red with fury and stared after Malfoy as he left but made no move to follow. Hermione, on the other hand, had suddenly turned very pale and looked down at her shoes thoughtfully.

* * *

That evening, Harry and Hermione waited together in the common room for Ron to return from detention.

"Look, Hermione," Harry said. "McGonagall was right. He's just trying to goad us on. He always says that."

"But, Harry!" Hermione protested, looking anxious. "Things are different now, don't you see? He's in with them. They're planning something. He knows what they do."

"Whatever it is, Dumbledore will handle it."

Hermione rounded on Harry. "Do you really believe that?"

"Well, I don't know," he admitted, sighing. "But what can we do? Follow him around the school all day? I don't think we can use Polyjuice Potion again. Besides, I don't think Crabbe and Goyle know very much. You notice how he isn't always with them now?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Pansy Parkinson has been telling everyone who will listen about how Malfoy was left all by himself at the dance."

"I thought Malfoy fancied her," said Harry, realizing that Hermione was not very concerned with Malfoy's love life, but knowing he would have to take small steps to tease out whatever theory she was working on.

Hermione did not reply to Harry's statement but said instead:

"Harry, do you remember in the Shrieking Shack, when Malfoy and Lucius were talking? He said they were planning something for the night of the ball."

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, he wouldn't want a date for the ball, would he? She would get in the way."

"But he must have been there. Pansy saw him."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "And he must have known she would tell everyone!"

"So he would have an alibi!" finished Harry, catching on.

Hermione looked back at him eagerly. "And he could have easily slipped out without anyone noticing."

Harry frowned. "But why? Where would he go? Surely someone would notice if he left the castle? He doesn't have an invisibility cloak, does he?"

"I suppose we wouldn't know if he did," said Hermione, sighing. "But still, suppose he didn't leave the castle at all. Suppose he went somewhere in the castle where the Death Eaters were planning something."

"But Hermione, Death Eaters can't just walk into the castle. It's protected. And besides, whatever it was they were planning didn't work, did it? Sirius and Dumbledore stopped it. Whatever the Malfoys were planning they already knew about, didn't they?"

Hermione looked very pensive. "I don't know, Harry," she said quietly. "What if something did happen? What if something happened but nobody knew?"

"Of course everyone would know, wouldn't they? I mean I'd probably be dead for one thing."

"But what if it was something very small, very subtle? Something no one would know about. Something that no one would see right away. Something that no one will know about until it's too late!"

"I think Dumbledore knows," said Harry, trying to sound much more convinced than he felt. "You can't tell me Malfoy knows something he doesn't!."

"I don't know, Harry, don't you see? He's not some school rival anymore. He's a Death Eater himself! I'll reckon he has the Dark Mark and everything!"

"And Dumbledore knows that," said Harry, "and if he thought Malfoy was a threat, he wouldn't let him stay at Hogwarts."

"You have too much faith in Dumbledore, Harry," was all Hermione could say.

The truth was that Harry was feeling just as uncertain as Hermione but he wasn't sure what else he could say to make her feel better and he was sure he was not going to say something that would get his friends nearly killed again. If Dumbledore was wrong, the only person who should have to suffer was Harry.

Harry was spared having to explain this to Hermione, however, when the portrait swung open and Ron staggered into the common room looking like he was just learning how to walk. With a painful groan, he slumped into the armchair next to Harry and Hermione.

"Horrible," he murmured. "She made me clean the whole first floor hallway, without magic."

Hermione immediately rushed over to his side. From long experience, Harry expected her to chastise him about the loss of house points, how he should have ignored Malfoy instead of hitting him, and how he probably deserved the punishment Professor McGonagall had given him. But Hermione said none of these things. Instead she looked at Ron with an expression one might have saved for a stranded kitten and began running her fingers through his ginger-colored hair.

"Oh, Ron," she said without a hint of sarcasm. "You poor thing. Let me make you feel better." She undid the front of his robes and the top two buttons on his shirt and began massaging his neck and back.

Harry blinked and shook his head. He looked around the common room to see if there was anyone who could tell him he had just slipped into an alternate universe, but all of the other Gryffindors had gone to bed.

"It was horrible," Ron was groaning. "My back is so sore. I – " He suddenly stopped.

"Yes?" said Hermione, close to his ear, in a tone that sounded like a purring cat.

Ron suddenly grinned. Hermione took his robes off and began to massage his back through the back of his shirt.

"O – of course," Ron went on. "I – it was for a good cause. I mean w – we sure got Malfoy, didn't we?"

Hermione nodded, continuing to smile, and moved further down his back.

"A – and," Ron went on, now unable to wipe the smile off his face. "I – I – it wasn't s – so bad, I suppose."

Hermione smiled and moved lower still.

"You know," Ron went on, now in a high-pitched croak. "I think the Gryffindor common room needs a good scrubbing, too. Who needs magic after all?"

Hermione's hands had reached the end of Ron's lower back.

Harry stood up. "I think I'm going to bed," he announced.

Hermione looked at him with a confused expression on her face, as if just waking up from a dream. Her hands returned immediately to Ron's neck and shoulders. "Really? But – actually, Ron, Harry and I were talking about Malfoy," she said, if just remembering, "and – "

"That's OK," said Harry. "I'm really tired now. Perhaps we can talk more about it over breakfast."

Harry saw not sure why but as he walked past Ron he winked at him behind Hermione's back. He found himself enjoying a kind of malicious pleasure when Ron's face went completely white, and did not lose that smile until he had gotten into bed and fallen asleep.

* * *

Large white flakes of snow fell in puffy balls from the sky as the second Hogsmeade weekend arrived and Ginny and Luna made their way down through the school grounds and out toward the village while most of their fellow students were still in bed.

"Do you think he'll mind?" said Luna anxiously, glancing at her watch.

"I thought you said you weren't going to meet him to leave until ten? We'll be down and back well before then."

"Yes, but what if he wants to go early?"

Ginny could help smiling. Luna really did like Neville a great deal. She just hoped she was giving her the right advice about how to go about dating him.

"He won't. Don't worry, Luna."

Luna quickly seized on another concern.

"What if he doesn't like me in the dress we buy?"

"He will, trust me."

"You want me to wear something plain, Ginny, don't you?"

"Well, not exactly 'plain' Luna," said Ginny, choosing her words carefully. "Just something a little bit cozier than that paper maiché outfit you wore last time."

"He said he liked me being different; I don't think I should just dress to look like anyone else."

Ginny considered this carefully for a moment. Luna had a point. Neville did like her because she was different, she could see that. But she still couldn't get Neville's horrified face out of her mind when Luna had turned up wearing The Daily Prophet on their last Hogsmeade weekend. Somehow there had to be a happy medium.

Luna was already racing ahead with her own ideas.

"I wonder if it's too early for them to sell swimwear. I heard there's one you can buy with a spell that makes it turn invisible whenever it comes in contact with water."

"No, Luna," said Ginny patiently. "It's snowing. I don't think you should wear a swimsuit, especially not a transparent one no matter how much Neville might like it."

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack wears nothing on its back all winter but the feathers nature gave it."

"But you don't have feathers, Luna."

Before Luna could argue any further, Ginny said:

"When you picked out your dress the last Hogsmeade weekend, Luna, did you choose what you'd normally wear?"

"Well, no. He said he liked me being different, so I – "

Ginny stopped walking and turned back to face Luna. Luna stopped walking herself and looked up at Ginny with surprise.

"No, Luna," said Ginny, pleased to have seized on the crux of the problem. "He liked you being yourself. Being different is what you are. There's no need to try and change it."

Luna looked back at Ginny a little vacantly which Ginny hoped meant that she was thinking about what she had just said. She nodded almost imperceptibly and then continued to walk on, followed by Ginny. The two friends traveled in unusual silence for a few moments, then Luna said:

"So has Harry lost any more of his horns?"

"Well," said Ginny, smiling very slightly. "I suppose things are a little better than they were the last time we talked. Hermione thinks he likes me but, I don't know, she has her own little plans."

"Have you tried singing to him?"

"I want to but I'm afraid I might sound out of tune."

"The Spiny-footed Kuku Bird is never out of tune."

Ginny started to laugh but stopped suddenly and winced, clutching the side of her head.

"Ginny?" Luna asked, her eyes even larger than usual. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," replied Ginny, her head clearing. She looked up and saw that she and Luna had just passed under the winged boars at the entrance gate to the school.

"The same thing happened when I went out for the first Hogsmeade weekend," she said. "Harry reckons the entrance gate might still cursed by Umbridge."

Ginny tried to smile but somehow her lips could not seem to move out of a straight line.

"Cursed by the extra-dimensional beings who control the fields around this castle more like," said Luna, her eyes narrowing. "You must be very sensitive to their aura. You should be careful; if they know you can feel them, they might try to harm you. They're xenophobes, you know."

Ginny nodded vacantly.

"Do you want to go back?" Luna asked.

"No, let's go on. I'll be all right."

The two girls walked on and Ginny soon put the headache completely out of her mind. Luna launched into a detailed description of the xenophobes and the various measures she felt Ginny should take to protect herself. Ginny didn't have the energy or the inclination to ask her to stop and kept nodding at regular intervals so the Ravenclaw would think she was still listening. The snow falling down around the thatched cottages and cobblestone street made Hogsmeade look like a picture from a fairytale that day. Ginny soon started to imagine strolling along the street with Harry, holding his arm, laughing with him at all the strange people walking by, waving cheerfully at Lord Ravenhurst, and going Christmas shopping for Hermione and Ron who would be off together somewhere far away. She let this vision carry her in through the door of Trans-figuration where Luna immediately stopped talking and started looking at a collection of hats that were chatting away to each other, stopping only to make faces at the two girls in an apparent attempt to sell themselves.

"What do you think?" Luna asked, holding up a bright orange hat more than half her own height that seemed undecided whether it was best to settle into a smile or a grimace and finished up appearing to look in considerable pain. "My green one's getting to look bored all the time."

Ginny shook her head.

"We're here to buy you a nice winter outfit and a spring one while we're at it, remember?"

Ginny tried to pay attention as Luna made her way over to a Wintry Witches display and tried on several robes but the mental arithmetic of picking out robes that Ginny wouldn't have been caught dead in herself but fell short of terrifying Neville soon proved too much and she found her thoughts wandering back to Harry again. She absently agreed to a bright pink set of robes that clashed horribly with Luna's blonde hair. On their way out to pay for the robes, the two girls passed through the men's section. Ginny stopped and looked thoughtfully at some long black school robes emblazoned with the Gryffindor lion.

"I wonder if I should buy these for Harry," she said frowning. "His robes look very worn out. I suppose I could just about afford them."

"Well, perhaps," said Luna vacantly. "But I rather thought that pair of glow-in-the-dark pants I noticed on the way in might suit him a little better; they're just his size. I – oh, dear, Ginny, are you all right?"

Ginny had suddenly fallen to the floor where she stood, clutching the side of her forehead and wincing in pain. The shop seemed to blur and close in on her like she was seeing the world through a pair of fogged up glasses. She was vaguely aware of shouts all around her. The long crooked nose of a hag peered into her face.

"Are you feeling all right, dearie?" it croaked.

Ginny felt the pain clear slowly away from her head. Her vision gradually improved and she looked up the hag, slightly startled. "I – I'm fine, thank you. Really, I'm OK."

* * *

Voldemort slammed the diary hard onto the ground in anger. He sincerely hoped that by severing his link so suddenly he had caused Ginny Weasley no small amount of pain. He cursed his fate that he should be so dependent on such a pathetic little creature.

The confidence Voldemort had felt the night he had first broken through the magic shield that surrounded Hogwarts several weeks before had eroded considerably. First, he had tried on another occasion to break through the magic link surrounding the castle and into Ginny Weasley's dreams but, on this occasion, he had not succeeded. He had brewed the potion as he had planned, formed the link with his Death Eaters, but he had not been able to penetrate the barrier. He knew that the potion was extremely delicate and that, somewhere, one of his Death Eaters had failed. He had taken out his frustrations on several of his followers but he still wasn't sure himself how he had not succeeded and, more importantly, how he could be sure that he would not fail again.

Then, informed by his sources of the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend, he had taken care to establish a link with Ginny as soon as she had left the Hogwarts grounds. The Dark Lord had felt his sense of confidence restored as he followed Harry and Ginny together around Hogsmeade in his mind. He had found himself thinking of new plans: if he could not attack the castle then perhaps he could attack Harry Potter in Hogsmeade after all, more risky, to be sure, but it might still have worked. He would have used Ginny to tell him exactly where Harry was, just as he had thought she had done on this day.

But even this secondary plan had collapsed almost as soon as it had formed. When Ginny had walked into the clothing shop to buy a present for Harry, Voldemort had realized that she hadn't been with him after all. He was somewhere else and Ginny did not know where. The image in Ginny's mind of walking through Hogsmeade with Harry had been very real to her but in the end it was not real at all: it was merely her own immature fantasy. And Voldemort had not known the difference. He imagined the humiliation of massing his Death Eaters to attack Harry exactly in the spot where Ginny stood and finding only a dreamy school girl and her friend. And worse, he knew that he would have to bide his time before he tried to enter Ginny's mind again. Her friends had already remarked on her strange headaches and he couldn't risk that she or they might discover what he was up to. Voldemort looked down at the diary with renewed rage. He would not be taken for a fool by a stupid little child.

There was a rustle of robes in the forest. Voldemort's eyes flashed as his most faithful servant appeared in front of him, calmly adjusted the sleeves of his robes so that the Dark Mark was exposed, and then strode slowly over to the Dark Lord with a long black wooden box in his hand.

Voldemort stood up. "I trust you have some good news for me, Severus. For I am much in need of it at the moment."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Your plans to monitor the Weasley girl have been unsuccessful?"

"I thought she was with Potter but she is not. It was only her stupid fantasies I was hearing." Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Surely you could have made sure they were together again, Severus?"

But Snape did not flinch. "I cannot always make sure they are together on visits outside of the castle. To suggest anything of the sort would easily arouse suspicion."

Voldemort looked down at the box. "You have it?" he asked.

Snape nodded, a satisfied sneer dancing at the end of his lips. He gave the box to Voldemort.

Voldemort opened it. Inside, resting on a soft velvet case was a wand. Voldemort took the wand out of the case. There was a sudden rush of wind. Birds cried in alarm. A tangible energy seemed to swirl around Voldemort and Snape and coalesce in the hand that was holding the wand.

Voldemort smiled for the first time since severing the link with Ginny. "Yes, yes," he hissed. "I can feel its power, its energy. Just think what this wand will do, Severus. The order it will bring. And our dear Mr. Potter will have no means to protect himself this time."

Voldemort turned his ghastly face to Snape and then suddenly froze. He stared at his servant for a moment, the wand still clutched in his hand.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, then Snape said:

"You have found a problem with the wand, my lord?"

"The wand is perfect, my friend, as you well know." Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "But I wonder. A man does not always speak with his lips. There was something in your eyes just then. Something I have not seen before."

"Indeed?" asked Snape neutrally.

"Almost a kind of hunger," Voldemort added, "or determination. Is there, I wonder, something you wish to tell Lord Voldemort? You needn't fear. You have done very well and he is very pleased with you. And surely you would never lie to me, Severus?"

"Only the hunger of being in your service, my Lord," replied Snape. "And might I suggest that I take a more direct role in your next plan to break into Miss Weasley's thoughts?"

Voldemort looked thoughtful. "Very well, Severus. Perhaps I would have done well to have left more in your hands before. I will let you know when I plan to proceed again."

Snape gave a curt nod and disapparated.

* * *

The end of term rolled around more quickly than anyone expected. Hermione no longer objected to having Ron copy her notes. Harry didn't ask for her help himself at first but on several occasions he caught her looking over and even by reading his parchments upside down, she became distressed at the number of missing or incorrect facts.

"No, Harry!" she said one day. "The goblin rebellions took place in 1572 not 1725! And Ron," she said, moving over to his notes, "you're reading your Tarot card upside down."

"I wondered why my fortune was so rotten," muttered Ron. "That's amazing, Hermione. You're not even in Divination!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry noticed that she was no longer unwilling to criticize Ron, although she never did so when anyone other than Harry was present. She also seemed less likely to stop whatever she was doing and giggle at him. She had started up regular meetings of S.P.E.W. again although it seemed to Harry that she was delegating more tasks to her fellow members than before. Ron hadn't been heard to criticize her, however.

Ron was hardly in much of a mood to enjoy his relationship, however: despite his early assertion that he would rather do it all over again to receive another of Hermione's backrubs, he had since become increasingly anxious that Mrs. Weasley would discover that he was no longer a prefect. His dread mounted until one day, Professor McGonagall called him into her office. As Ron explained afterwards to Harry and Hermione, who had been waiting for him anxiously in the Great Hall at lunch, McGonagall had agreed not to inform his parents about the matter but said that she would continue to suspend his prefect privileges until Easter.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" said Hermione.

Ron groaned until Hermione put her arm around him and then groaned even louder so that she would leave it there.

"Mum will find out though. She always does."

"I don't see how," said Hermione. "Fred and George aren't here to tell them. And we're not going to say anything."

Harry nodded encouragingly.

"Ginny will then," said Ron despondently.

"No, I won't."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry looked up to see Ginny walking past them. Ron seemed about to say something when his eyes caught a shiny scarlet and gold badge pinned to front of Ginny's robes.

"Y – you – " he started.

"I've just been in with McGonagall," Ginny declared, once again seeming to suppress a giggle with difficulty. "And I've decided I'm having too much fun to let Mum know anything that might make her change her mind."

She walked purposefully past them and went to sit down with her roommates, exchanging a very quick wink with Harry who suddenly found it difficult to stop smirking himself, especially when he saw the strange mixture of shock and mirth on Ron's face.

But even this new found relief of Ron's did not last long. Hermione had had plans to go skiing with her family during the Christmas holidays. Ron had decided once again to stay at Hogwarts with Harry, who was still not allowed to leave the castle. That was, until one day at dinner, when Ron and Harry had been sitting alone and Hermione quickly ran up to sit beside them and announced with excitement that her parents had invited Ron along on the skiing trip with them. Ron smiled at the news but Harry noticed he suddenly looked very pale. Hermione then turned to Harry and looked slightly crestfallen but Harry quickly reassured her that he didn't mind in the slightest and that he was really much happier at Hogwarts than racing down Alpine slopes at high speeds. Ron looked even paler at this but Harry could see that he didn't have the heart to disappoint Hermione. He quickly disappeared after dinner, however, claiming that he needed to do some extra studying in the library. Hermione remarked with a sense of satisfaction about the good influence she was having on him and Harry did not voice his skepticism.

Harry did not see Ron again until he returned to the dormitory that night and it was time for them to go to bed. They had turned the lights out and Harry had just dozed off when he thought he heard someone calling his name. Still half-asleep, Harry rolled around sleepily in his bed and groaned when he heard the voice again, a little louder this time. He opened his eyes and could hear that most of his roommates were asleep. Ron, however, was sitting up in his bed wide-awake, looking at him.

"Harry," he said.

"What is it?" Harry asked sleepily.

"How could you stand living with Muggles all those years?"

"Not very easily, I assure you. Good night." He rolled over on his other side.

"Harry!" Ron reached over and shook him.

"What is it?" asked Harry, a little annoyed. He could see in the dim light from the moon outside that Ron looked frightened.

"I – I went to the library and read up about skuh – skuh – skiing. It's barbaric! They tie these great wooden broomsticks to their feet and then slide on the ice down the mountain. And some of them die! A – and we won't be able to use magic at all!"

"Some people die playing Quidditch."

"But – but, Harry, what if there are trolls? My mother always told me never to go near a mountain. I don't wonder what she's going to think when she finds out about this."

"Trolls don't go near mountains where there are lots of Muggles."

Harry tried to go back to sleep again.

"Harry," said Ron insistently.

"What?"

"D – do you think Hermione would mind if I – I didn't go?"

"Yes."

Ron whimpered.

"Ron," added Harry. "You've got to do this. You got to kiss her and now you have to meet her parents." Harry was glad Ron couldn't see the smile on his face. He closed his eyes. He felt fatigue wash over his mind. He knew he would be asleep again very soon. It would happen before he –

"Harry?"

"Ron!"

"I – I'm sorry. Just one more question, I promise."

Harry sighed.

"Harry, what if they don't like me? What if they think I'm some kind of f - freak?"

"They'll like you, Ron. They've met you before, haven't they? And their daughter's a witch. Who did they think she would date? Believe me, if they thought that about wizards, they would never have let her go to Hogwarts."

Ron was silent for a moment, then said: "I suppose."

"Satisfied now?"

"Yes."

"Good, now good night."

Harry rolled over on his other side and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

The next morning, however, Ron had resolved to owl his mother with the news and announced happily to Harry that he felt certain she would not approve of his going because it would leave Harry alone and then he could explain to Hermione that he had no choice. To his dismay, however, his mother had thought it was a wonderful idea that Ron should go on the skiing trip with the Grangers, but she had also told Ron that she intended to ask Dumbledore if she, Mr. Weasley, and the rest of the family could spend Christmas at Hogwarts together with Harry since he could not leave.

"No," Harry said automatically, on hearing this.

"No?" repeated Ron as if hearing the word for the first time. "I don't think it's a choice, Harry. Once she's got an idea, no one's going to stop her."

"Ron, please tell her I said no."

"But why, Harry? Fred and George will be here, too - and Ginny. It'll be fun. I wish I was staying," he added gloomily.

Harry sighed. In truth, he could not say for sure why he did not want the Weasleys to stay with him over Christmas. He was touched, not for the first time, by Mrs. Weasley's thoughtfulness. Ron was right; with Fred and George around and the run of the castle to themselves, not to mention no lessons to have to worry about, it would be fun. But something about the whole thing still made him feel very queasy and, strangely, the more he thought about how much he would love to spend Christmas with the Weasleys, the more queasy he felt.

"I – I just, no, Ron, please tell your Mum I just don't want her to go to that trouble. It's bound not to be fun for her to spend Christmas away from home. Just because I have to stay locked up in here doesn't mean that she – "

"Oh, she won't mind! Bill might have even come, too; I bet he knows loads of passageways we haven't even found. And Charlie and Perc – "

Ron quickly closed his mouth but it was already too late.

"Percy?" said Harry incredulously. "Did you say Percy?"

"Yeah, w – well he, er, I mean, Fudge is all on Dumbledore's side now, and, well, Dad's doing better in the Ministry, and, well, so – "

"So Percy's coming to home to make up, just like that?"

"W – well, yes, well, Mum asked him back for Christmas and he said yes."

"Well, I'm not spending Christmas anywhere near Percy," Harry declared darkly. "Not after what he did; not after what he said."

"Yeah," said Ron, looking very uncomfortable. "Ginny said she isn't going to speak to him until he apologizes."

"I don't blame her!" replied Harry, aware that he was starting to raise his voice. "I don't think I'd speak to him even if he did apologize! Didn't you say he was the biggest git ever or something like that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did say that," admitted Ron, looking very evasive. "I – I suppose I didn't think much about what I'd do, I mean, I won't be there, will I? Not to say that – "

"I'm sorry, Ron," said Harry flatly. "Tell your Mum no."

Ron sighed. It was obvious to Harry he was afraid to push things any further. But while Harry had told the truth about not wanting to be in the presence of Ron's estranged elder brother, he could not help but feel grateful to have been able to seize on the excuse of Percy. In truth, Harry didn't want the Weasleys near him at Christmas for reasons that he was far from willing to admit to Ron – or, for that matter, to himself.

* * *

The end of term exams were not nearly as awful as the sixth years had feared. Even the Potions test was unusually orderly. Finally, it was time for the Hogwarts Express to return to London and most of the students were taking their trunks out to the front entrance of the school. As usual, however, Ron had left things until the last minute and was still frantically stuffing clothes into his case perilously close to the hour that the Hogwarts Express was due to leave.

"Here, I'll help you." Harry started taking some of Ron's things out of the wardrobe and handing them to his friend. Ron then started taking the pillows off his bed and tried to stuff them onto the top of his overflowing trunk.

"What do you need those for?" demanded Harry.

"Mum thought I should use a sticking charm and attach them to the inside of my cloak in case I fall on the mountain."

"No, Ron," said Harry, taking out the pillows and putting them back on Ron's bed. He took hold of Ron's shoulders. "You'll – be – fine."

Ron nodded but still did not look convinced.

"What's it like, mate - really?" Harry asked suddenly.

Ron looked at him in surprise, then broke into a grin. "Honestly, Harry," he said. "It's like Christmas every day. I just get up in the morning and go to find her. I – " He stopped, his smile fading slightly. "Don't worry, mate. I'm sure you'll find somebody soon. They're not all like Cho, you know. "

"I don't think so," said Harry, but kept smiling. "It's all right. I'm not really sure I'm the type of person who ought to – well, it's – it's just different being me, I suppose."

"Different? How?"

Harry's face darkened. "I don't know."

But Ron did not seem to take the hint. He looked furtively back and forth between Harry and the door to their otherwise empty dormitory.

"Look, mate," he said, in a low anxious voice. "I was going to say anything but, you know, I mean, well – "

Ron seemed to hope that he had already made his meaning clear but Harry was forced to inform him that he was sadly mistaken.

"Well, I mean, have you, well, have you ever thought about, well," Ron's voice dropped to a whisper, "asking out Ginny."

"Ginny?"

"Yeah, you know, my sister, Ginny."

"I know who Ginny is!" snapped Harry, starting to feel a little irate. "Why?" he said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Has she said something to you?"

"Well, no," Ron hastened to add. "I – I don't suppose she would. It's just, well, she's always fancied you a bit, really, and now she's ditched Corner and Thomas and I just thought maybe, well – look, it's like this, mate." Ron straightened himself. "I don't know what those other blokes are after but I trust you; I know you wouldn't hurt her."

If Harry was impressed by Ron's sentiment, he didn't show it.

"Don't you think she can make up her own mind who to trust?"

"W – well, of course. But if you, you know, showed her a bit of interest, then maybe – "

"And suppose I'm not interested?"

Harry was vaguely aware he was starting to come very close to shouting again but he quickly decided that it no longer bothered him.

"Well no one said you were, mate, I just thought – "

"WELL YOU THOUGHT WRONG! I'M NOT AND I'M NOT GOING TO BE!"

"All right, Harry, no need to shout, I just – "

"I'm going downstairs to check on Hermione," announced Harry and left the dormitory, closing the door behind him rather loudly. He soon found, however, that he did not mind that, either. What was Ron thinking now? It was bad enough that the Weasleys wanted to follow him everywhere for Christmas. Now Ron wanted him to be mated into their family, just so that he could keep an eye on his sister? Didn't anyone understand that Harry just wanted to be left alone?

Hermione was sitting in the common room. Harry strode over to purposefully over to her, daring her to make some remark about his obviously disagreeable mood but when he arrived at her side, he found that she was preoccupied with something else entirely.

"Not good," she announced, dropping a copy of The Daily Prophet down in front of him.

Harry quickly glimpsed an upside-down Fudge, looking very furtive, next to the headline: FUDGE FACES INQUIRY IN CLAIM OF YOU-KNOW-WHO'S RETURN.

"Bad news?" asked Harry, suddenly forgetting about his argument with Ron.

Hermione sighed.

"They're saying that Fudge made up the story of You – of Voldemort's return. They say they only have his word for it – and Dumbledore's - and, of course, no one has seen or heard from Voldemort or the Death Eaters so they're starting to wonder whether he made the whole thing up so Fudge would have a reason to hold onto office since he's not done anything else right lately; they're saying that Dumbledore got to him or something."

"But there were loads of witches and wizards at the Ministry that night! They all saw him!"

Hermione sighed wearily. "Probably. But none of them seem quite so eager to admit it anymore. Funny that Fudge is getting a taste of his own medicine especially after he covered up the Death Eater break-out. He can't use that in his defense, of course."

"Strange how I'm not laughing," said Harry hollowly.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Still, I'm surprised Voldemort hasn't made some sort of attack. What is waiting for, after all this time?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Harry gloomily. "He's waiting for me. He wanted to start off his return by killing me the night of the Triwizard tournament, but then that failed. Then he tried to get the prophecy from me at the Ministry and that didn't work either. He tried to kill me at the Dursleys but now he can't while I'm here. He's just biding his time. He wants his new war to start on his own terms – with my death - and he's determined not to have it any other way. And after he gets his wish, just wait and see."

"Harry, don't talk like that!" said Hermione, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she found it hard to argue with Harry's logic. She was spared the effort of responding further, however, when Ron made his way down the stairs with his trunk. He seemed to avoid making eye contact with Harry and Harry for his part felt too morose to settle their earlier row. He simply walked with Ron and Hermione and their belongings out of the castle and down to the train platform as they had agreed. He gave both of his friends one last wave before turning around to go back to the castle alone when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned around. It was Ginny.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Hi, Ginny."

Harry immediately felt himself stiffen, thinking of his recent conversation with Ron about her but something about the way Ginny looked at him made him feel a little calmer. It wasn't her fault after all; she'd probably be livid, too if she knew what Ron had said. Perhaps he should tell her, Harry wondered, and let her give it to him on the train, but instead he said simply:

"Going home then?"

"Yes," said Ginny, looking down at the ground. "Won't you let us stay with you?" she said gently. "It's not too late, you know."

"N – no, I, I don't want to," said Harry, feeling a little defensive again. He knew that Ginny wouldn't be afraid to speak her mind and braced himself for her reaction but the youngest Weasley just looked up at him a little sadly and nodded.

"Then I wanted to give you this."

Ginny took a scroll of parchment out of her robes and handed it to Harry.

"Open it."

Harry took the parchment with curiosity and unraveled it. Scrawled in elegant black handwriting were the words:

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of the Weird Sisters' latest song spell JINXING THE BLUES featuring the new hit single CONFOUNDED. To activate the spell, brew a simple potion of gillyweed and wolfsbane, add a single sparrow feather and say: "Apparecium Symphonia."

The caption was followed by a picture of the Weird Sisters jostling for position and appearing to hit each other on the head with their guitars. Underneath the picture were written the words:

Warning: Unauthorized distribution of this song spell is strictly forbidden. If you try to give it to your friends without buying another licensed copy, the curse that follows will be very nasty indeed.

"Don't worry," said Ginny as Harry frowned at the last line. "I paid for it."

Harry looked up from the parchment, smiling very brightly. "This is wonderful. Thank you, Ginny!"

He put the parchment away in his robes and then reached down and pulled Ginny into a hug. He let go after a few moments, the smile still hovering on his lips as if uncertain whether to break out again or withdraw into a frown. Splashes of color had risen on Ginny's cheeks to match her hair, her eyes had a strange, almost glazed over look, and Harry was sure she was having difficulty catching her breath. He suddenly remembered the look on Ginny's face when they had hugged the day he'd returned to Hogwarts and his expression settled more definitely into a frown. Suddenly, the thought of sharing righteous indignation with Ginny at Ron's plans for getting the two of them together seemed very far away indeed.

"I – I'm sorry, Ginny," he said finally. "I'm afraid I haven't given you anything."

"But Harry," said Ginny, looking down at the ground. "Don't you realize? You just did. Happy Christmas." She looked up at him very briefly and then turned to run onto the train which was just leaving.

Harry watched the train pull into the distance, his mouth open slightly. He stood there for several minutes as though glued to the spot, then slowly turned around and made his way back to the castle.


	15. The Secret Life Of Professor Nevins

Chapter 15

The Secret Life Of Professor Nevins

A sharp wind stung the side of Harry's face as he made his way to Hagrid's cabin on Christmas Day. The hut had never seemed so far away as it did to Harry on this occasion and he was never more glad to enter the cabin than when a rosy-cheeked Hagrid opened the door and let him in.

"Happy Christmas, Harry!" said Hagrid, clapping him hard on the back.

"Happy Christmas, Hagrid," Harry replied, sitting near the fire and letting it warm his hands and face. "Thanks for the – er – "

"The bonglewhompers?" asked Hagrid.

"Er, well, is that what they were, I wondered, actually, er, am I supposed to eat them?"

"Heavens, no!" cried Hagrid. "They're not fer yeh at all."

Harry looked puzzled.

"Yeh see, I still haven' givin' yeh yeh real gift yet."

"Oh?" said Harry, trying to sound curious rather than alarmed.

Hagrid smiled and winked. He waved away Fang, who wore a red bow around his neck, and reached under his table for a small package. Harry took the package from Hagrid and frowned in alarm as he felt something move inside. He smiled weakly at Hagrid and tapped his wand on the outside of the box. The wrapping opened and a bright orange ball of fur jumped out into his arms. Harry recognized in horror that it was one of Beethoven's puppies.

"Meet Snitch!"

"Snitch?"

"Yeah, Snitch, yeh know, Quidditch and all."

"I know, Hagrid."

"Well, I had to name him somethin', I mean, I had to get him into that box an' all, didn't I?"

"Er, thanks, Hagrid," Harry tried to say but his words were drowned out when Snitch trumpeted shrilly in his hands. He thought seriously of trying to give him back to Hagrid and was just thinking of how to say so without hurting his feelings when Snitch fixed him with a sudden longing, almost mournful expression from his large black eyes.

"Aw, look," said Hagrid, watching Snitch. "He knows yeh his new master. Here, go on, give him a bonglewhomper. I've got a few here, somewhere." Hagrid moved a poisonous-looking weed killer from one of his tables and grabbed a few small white balls that looked like little Easter eggs. Harry held them up carefully in his hand where Snitch eyed them eagerly.

"Go on, he won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid.

Harry took one of the bonglewhompers between his tips of his fingers and slowly moved it closer to Snitch. His hand was about half an inch away when Snitch reached out with his trunk and grabbed onto both the bonglewhomper and Harry's finger. Harry felt Snitch sucking his finger in but it didn't hurt.

"He'll learn after a time. They all do. Go on, feed him another."

Harry took another bonglewhomper from Hagrid and fed it to Snitch who continued to look expectantly at him. He was about to give him yet another when Hagrid said.

"That's enough fer him; they don' know what's good for 'em, the young'uns. Just two at each meal time and he'll be fine."

"But Hagrid," said Harry, looking a little hopeful. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave, er, Snitch here for your safekeeping. We're only allowed to keep an owl, a cat, or a toad with us in the castle."

Hagrid raised a triumphant finger and Harry's face fell. "Ah! Don' yeh worry about that. I got yeh special permission from Professor McGonagall on account of he'll keep yeh safe see. Anyone unwelcome about he'll holla and holla till they go away. Ain' no better animal for givin' yeh a warnin', except maybe Fang o' course."

Fang brushed up against Hagrid's beard and slobbered his appreciation.

"Er, well, thanks, Hagrid," said Harry, as Snitch shrieked again no doubt in protest that he was no longer being fed. "I – I'm sure he'll come in handy." He put Snitch down on the table in front of Hagrid and tried to ignore his screams.

Eventually, Snitch stopped screaming and appeared to fall asleep from exhaustion. Harry and Hagrid kept talking and Harry sampled some of Hagrid's Christmas pudding which was badly charred when Hagrid tried unsuccessfully to light it with his umbrella.

"Must have been a bit lavish with the fire whisky."

Harry quickly stuffed his piece under a chair in the corner while Hagrid's attention was briefly distracted by Fang.

After they had finished the Christmas pudding, it was nearly time for Hagrid and Harry to make their way up to the castle for the feast. The conversation had slowed somewhat when Hagrid suddenly sighed deeply.

"'Spect it's been a bit lonely fer yeh this holiday, up in the castle."

"A bit," Harry admitted. "It's the first Christmas I've spent without Ron. But it's not that bad," he added. "I – I've developed a whole new strategy for the Quidditch team for next term. I think we've got at least a fair chance of winning the Cup." He looked searchingly at Hagrid, wondering what had made him ask that question. "I – is – how is, er, Grawp doing?" he asked.

"Oh, fine, fine, much calmer now, as you can see." Hagrid pointed to his face which Harry could see was free of the blows and scars Hagrid had worn most of his previous year. "Olympe's been helpin' out, too, apparates in from France quite a bit; fine lady," he added almost wistfully. "F – fine lady."

"Er, well, that's good," said Harry, still wondering why Hagrid had started to sound so somber.

There was another slightly awkward moment of silence before Hagrid frowned and said:

"Listen, Harry. There's somethin' I wanted to say to yeh. Well." He looked down at the sleeping Snitch. "Ron 'n Hermione are together now, o' course, an' I know yeh wish 'em all the best an' o' course I do an' all as well but yeh know… well, it's like this, Harry, after yeh did in Yeh-Know-Who, the first time, well, when he was around no one had time to think, like; they just had to stop him, didn't they? But after he was gone, a lot o' people got to thinkin' about all the people they lost, about the things they could'uh done differently, like, an' they couldn't rightly do much of anythin' or they did things but they was never themselves really. They could'uh let all their pain out, see, but they kept it all in."

Harry could now see that this had something to do with Sirius although he couldn't see why Hagrid had started talking about it now. He certainly didn't want to argue with Hagrid but he also wished very much he would stop talking about it. He tried his best to keep his expression neutral and hoped that Hagrid would stop before he managed to make his way to the main point.

"Well, yeh know, Harry," Hagrid went on. "All I'm really sayin' is just – just don' get to, well, keepin' things all to yourself now. Yeh got to – got to, well, yeh know, yeh got to share yourself, yeh know, both the good things and the bad, with, well, with someone – or, well, some people." Hagrid looked up at Harry and smiled weakly as if realizing that he had ended on an especially unconvincing note.

"I do share things with other people, Hagrid," said Harry, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible. "Ron and Hermione a – and, well, you."

Somehow Harry found that this didn't sound very believable, however, even to himself.

"Course yeh do, course yeh do," echoed Hagrid, looking as though he wanted to end the conversation almost as badly as Harry did. "'S nothin' really, I, er, well, I was just thinkin' o' some people who just never, well, who were too, well, take feh instance Professor Nevins." Hagrid's face fell suddenly. "No, no, never mind, I shouldn't've said that. I forgot yeh didn't – no, never mind."

Hagrid shook his head but it was already too late.

"Forgot I didn't what, Hagrid?" asked Harry, suddenly finding himself much more interested in the conversation.

"Never mind, never mind. Forget I said anything. No business of mine – or anyone's," he added looking meaningfully at Harry.

But Harry was not going to be put off so easily. "Hagrid, do you know how Professor Nevins received the Order of Merlin?"

"No, no, I wouldn't know anything about that at all," replied Hagrid unconvincingly. "That's somethin' Professor Nevins will tell you if and when he's ready."

"Why would he tell me?"

"You?" said Hagrid, trying to conceal the thunderstruck expression on his face. "No, can' think o' why he would tell you. I – I meant tell anyone…. Anyhow," he slapped Harry hard on the back, causing him to fall off his stool. "How did we get onto all this doom and gloom, eh? It's Christmas! How about another piece o' Christmas puddin' to warm yeh up, eh?"

Harry tried to smile but he could not help but wonder what Hagrid had really been trying to tell him. What was it about Professor Nevins he was so anxious for Harry not to find out, and what did it have to do with him?

* * *

Christmas holidays seemed to come to an end far too early for Harry's liking. It was true that he missed Ron and Hermione very much, despite their frequent owl cards, in which all of their pre-Christmas disagreements seemed to have been diplomatically forgotten and they had tried to convince him – unsuccessfully – that they were not having the time of their lives. Nevertheless, Harry had enjoyed the time off with no lessons and they had received far less work during the holidays this year than in their previous O.W.L. year. He had been truthful to Hagrid when he had told him that, in the absence of his regular lessons, he had been able to devote a great deal of time to devising a plan to help Gryffindor win the Quidditch cup and he was eager to try out his plan on the team. On more than one occasion, however, it frightened Harry how closely he seemed to equal the obsessive spirit of his former captain and mentor Oliver Wood.

There was another reason Harry was dreading the return of school, however, and that concerned Ginny Weasley. The truth was that the recorded faces of the Weird Sisters had looked at Harry through the fireplace many times that Christmas holiday as he sat down alone in the common room pouring over his strategies for Quidditch. But as the break got nearer to an end, Harry felt more and more guilty at listening to the recording and finally stuffed the parchment high up in his wardrobe where he hoped he would not be easily tempted to reach it.

The source of Harry's guilt was not the quality of the present, which he had enjoyed very much, but his misgivings about the manner in which it was given. In the time Harry had spent by himself during the holidays, he had thought very honestly about his friendship with Ginny. And the more he thought about it, the more Harry decided that whether or not Ron knew anything about it, Ginny still had some kind of crush on him. This wasn't the first time he had thought about this, of course. Ron had all but told him that Ginny fancied him the first year she came to Hogwarts and then, of course, Harry had gone and saved her life, which had only made things worse. And then there was the way she would stop talking and stare whenever he came near her.

And then, one day, she had started to talk. He hadn't thought much about why at the time but when Hermione had told he and Ron that Ginny had been going out with Michael Corner, it had all seemed to fit. And Harry had become convinced that he would have one less thing to worry about, which could only be for the better.

But now Ginny had broken up with Michael and then Dean. And now that Harry stopped to think about it, she had not seemed anxious to start a relationship with anyone new, either, as if her relationships with other boys were just a passing faze. But she was also still by no means as speechless around him as she had been before. If Ginny really did have feelings for him again, Harry knew that he wasn't going to be able to avoid them as easily now. Before long, Harry realized with a particularly sickening feeling, Ginny was bound to try and say something about her feelings to him. On more than one occasion during the holidays, Harry had been seized by the horrible image of Ginny cornering him in the common room singing "his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" while Fred and George sniggered and Ron looked on, impatiently awaiting his encouraging response.

The Valentine. If only he hadn't asked her about that. Why had he asked her? Why had he cared? Wasn't it obvious to anyone but a pea-brained troll that she had sent it to him? Was he so vain that he wanted to hear her tell him? Whatever the case, Harry realized that he had unwittingly given her some encouragement that cursed night of the ball. He had tried to back out of it the next morning but she obviously hadn't taken the hint. She must have started to study with them so that she could get nearer him. It was obvious now that Harry thought about it. And then she had given him the Christmas gift and as difficult as it was for Harry to understand anything girls thought, he was sure that the hug they had shared on the train platform had meant much more to her than a simple expression of friendship. And he had not discouraged her then either.

Harry was certain he did not want to hurt Ginny's feelings and he still desperately hoped that her feelings for him would change or go away but he also faced the fact that this now seemed very unlikely. And since Harry was sure he had spent most of the year fueling Ginny's crush with both the things he had said and the things he had left unsaid, it was his duty to let her down as gently as he could and explain to her that while he enjoyed the time they spent together, he was not interested in a romantic friendship.

And so Harry steeled himself for the conversation with Ginny. He practiced in front of the mirror so many times that it finally said back to him: "Well, no, dear, no more do I." He rehearsed to himself the conversation he would have with Ginny all the way to the train depot like he was practicing lines for a play. But when the Weasleys and Hermione finally emerged from the Hogwarts Express, Harry found his resolve evaporate like steam from a kettle. Ron and Hermione immediately ran over and launched into an elaborate account of their skiing trip. Ron quickly abandoned his owl card façade and was full of enthusiasm about his adventures with the Muggles even though he sported a broken right arm and left leg. Hermione fussed a great deal about getting him to Madam Pomfrey and enlisted Harry's help in levitating him up the stairs. Madam Pomfrey mended Ron's broken bones in a few minutes but clucked a great deal about primitive Muggle medicine as she spent much longer applying a breaking charm to Ron's Muggle casts. By the time his bones had been fixed, however, Ginny had disappeared and when Harry next saw her, she was with a group of her fellow fifth-years.

When Harry had imagined talking to Ginny, it had always been alone in the common room, the other students having mysteriously vanished. But in real life, no such thing occurred. The common room was always full of students, Ginny was always with her friends, and Harry was nearly always with Ron and Hermione. It was true that Ginny now seemed to be studying with them less and Harry wondered whether she might have lost interest in him but on quick reflection, he found this doubtful.

As January rolled into February, and Harry was still no nearer to bringing himself to talk to Ginny, a new fear began to well up inside him. Ginny was waiting for February 14th to roll around again and then she was going to tell him something, or give him something and then things would be much more difficult. He had to find a way to talk to her sometime before then.

Harry was turning these things over in his head one Thursday during the first week of February when he walked into Professor Nevins' office for his Defense Against the Dark Arts tutorial. Nevins had finished teaching him the Levitatus charm and was now training him to block multiple curses. He conjured two life-like Death Eaters in his office, complete with robes and masks, that would change position and fire hexes at Harry in quick succession.

"Impedio!" cried Harry as he blocked one spell. "Imp – "

The second Death Eater's Avada Kedavra hit him on his arm.

"If that were a real curse, you would most probably be dead now," remarked Nevins offhandedly. "Try again."

Harry kept trying but nearly every time the second curse caught him on the hand. He found himself increasingly flustered until finally it seemed he could block spells from neither Death Eater.

"Finite Incantatem," shouted Nevins suddenly and both Death Eaters disappeared. He turned to Harry.

"Is there something bothering you today, Harry? You seem a little distracted."

Harry thought of lying to Nevins but then decided against it. "Well, to be honest, professor, there is something on my mind."

But if Harry thought he was going to earn any sympathy from Nevins, he was mistaken.

"And suppose, Harry, that you have something on your mind when the Death Eaters decide to strike, what then?"

Harry found himself a little piqued at this. Did Nevins think he didn't know what a Death Eater attack was like?

"Well," he remarked. "I doubt I would be worrying about something else if any real Death Eaters were attacking me."

Harry realized too late that this had been the very last thing he should have said. Nevins' jaw hardened and he turned around to Harry and said:

"Then perhaps I should arrange for a more realistic exercise next week. That will be all for today. Please make sure that whatever it is that is distracting you is resolved by then. I expect nothing less than your full attention in my lessons. Oh, and I'm afraid I have another engagement next Thursday. You will meet me instead on Friday afternoon at 1 o'clock. We should be finished before your potions lesson at 3."

Harry nodded a little meekly and walked out of Nevins' office. He felt a mixture of guilt at having let his teacher down after he had taken the time to provide the extra lessons and apprehension at what Nevins was planning for the following week. It was the next day before Harry realized with horror that his following week's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson would fall on Valentine's Day. Did Nevins realize this? Was that why he had changed the timing of their class? Did he suspect the true cause of Harry's distraction? Or was this merely an unhappy coincidence? Not for the first time, Harry found himself unnerved at how much Nevins seemed to know about him and how little Harry understood about Nevins in return.

Whatever the case, Harry knew that it would be very difficult for him to keep Ginny out of his mind as the morning of the 14th of February dawned. As soon as Harry woke, he looked around his room furtively for any sign of golden-winged dwarfs bearing singing Valentines.

"Did you expect a Death Eater in our room this morning?" asked Ron nonchalantly ignoring the scandalized look on Harry's face. "I suppose your new pet would warn us if there was anyone intruding." He indicated Snitch who had woken himself and was now bouncing up and down in an excited state on Harry's bed while Dean, Seamus, and Neville laughed.

"No, er, I was – I was just looking for my shoes."

Harry and Ron made their way down to breakfast. Harry kept turning corners nervously, sighing with relief when there was nothing unusual around the other side.

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Ron. "Don't know why you're so jumpy. It's me that has to be worried. I suppose you haven't been keeping track but today is Valentine's Day."

Harry half-expected to walk into the Great Hall and discover it decorated with large pink flowers and heart-shaped confetti just as it had when Lockhart had been their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and tried to boost morale by sending out card-carrying cupids singing Valentines, the very thing that had led to the consternation Harry was now facing. He was relieved to find that the hall looked much the same as usual.

Hermione was waiting for them and had already started her breakfast. She greeted Ron with a kiss and took a present out from underneath her chair. It was a box of Honeydukes' chocolate in the shape of a heart.

"Thanks, Hermione!" Ron kissed her again.

"I knew a box of chocolate could never go wrong with you," said Hermione breezily to both Harry and Ron.

Ron started to look anxious again. For a sinking moment, Harry wondered whether Ron had forgotten to give her a present and began to eat his breakfast much faster. But then Ron said:

"Y – your present will be coming by post. It's a little big."

Hermione looked curiously at Ron. She did not have to wait long to find out what it was, however, for the hall was soon full of an unusually large number of owls, several of which collided in mid-air while trying to deliver mail to their senders. Amidst the usual envelopes and copies of the Daily Prophet flew a shower of small chocolate boxes and red roses. Harry prayed that none would fall his way. He turned his head sideways to look over at Ginny who was sitting several seats away from them with her roommates but found she seemed to have become very interested in her food. Harry's attention was quickly jerked back to the table, however, when Pigwidgeon and four tawny owls dropped a very long package in front of Hermione.

For a moment Harry thought Ron had given Hermione a broomstick but it was a little too wide and there was no bulge where the end should have been. Hermione looked at the package curiously for a moment as an unusually exhausted Pigwidgeon went to receive owl treats from Ron. Then she opened it.

And pulled out a long pair of magenta skis covered with light pink hearts that throbbed up and down magically. It was the gaudiest thing Harry had ever seen.

"I – I – I bought these when we were on holiday," explained Ron a little nervously, "and then I had it taken to a shop in Hogsmeade and enchanted. I suppose it violates the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts law but since my Dad – "

Ron's unnecessarily long explanation was cut short when Hermione planted a very sloppy kiss on his lips.

"Oh, Ron, it's wonderful! I've never owned a pair of skis before. How ever did you afford them?"

"Well, I'd saved up a bit of Muggle money from our trip and so I managed."

Hermione kissed him again. Harry looked over to see that Seamus and Dean had stopped eating and shoved napkins over their mouths to prevent themselves from laughing out loud. If he hadn't been so anxious, Harry probably would have joined them.

Finally, breakfast was over and Harry left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. He spent most of the morning looking around, startled at the slightest sound, convinced that an enchanted Valentine was going to come floating his way from Ginny. But as lunch came and went and his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson loomed closer, Harry tried to force himself to concentrate on the tasks ahead. He knew that he would need all of his effort on this day.

With a feeling of panic that equaled if not surpassed his fear of receiving a new Valentine, Harry knocked on the door to Professor Nevins' office and was asked in.

Nevins was sitting at his desk and looked up at him with an air of indifference. "On time I see, Harry, good."

Nevins stood up and walked in front of his desk. He took out his wand and pointed it at two cabinets on either side of the room. Harry was sure they had not been there before.

"Do you know what is inside these cabinets, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"I confess I was at a loss as to what to plan for today's lesson, since my conjured Death Eaters were apparently not realistic enough for you last week. I could not, of course, bring a real Death Eater into my office but I think we can suffice with these. We have here two Boggarts. I recently had chance to talk to your former teacher, Professor Lupin." Nevins smiled his infuriatingly knowing smile. "He told me that you are very skilled at handling Boggarts. But this time, Harry, I don't want you to get rid of the Boggart, I want you to remain under their spell, as it were. I want you to pretend that these two Boggarts are really two Death Eaters, or two Dementors, or perhaps even two versions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I want you to disarm them and keep disarming them."

Harry swallowed and nodded.

Nevins moved toward the left wardrobe door. "I will let this one out first. Then, when you are ready, I will release the second."

Harry nodded and then took out his wand and held it out in front of him, ready. He wasn't sure how he was going to disarm a Dementor - and he was nearly certain that a Dementor would emerge from the wardrobe. He concentrated for a moment on producing a Patronus should it become necessary. He had no sooner done so when Nevins opened the door to the wardrobe and a Boggart stepped out, slowly turned, and advanced on Harry.

But it was not a Dementor. Nor was it a Death Eater. Nor even the Dark Lord himself.

It was Ginny Weasley.

Only it was not quite like the real Ginny. The features were unmistakable, of course: Ginny's long red hair fell in locks down the front of her Gryffindor robes. But where Ginny's eyes were bright and her cheeks full of color, the Ginny that advanced on Harry was ghostly white, her lips were blue and her eyes were sullen and blank, as though there was nothing alive behind them.

If Nevins was surprised that the Boggart took Ginny's form, he did not show it.

"Now disarm it, Harry, before it gets any closer. Do it now."

Harry held out his wand in front of him and tried to cast a disarming spell on the Boggart but the curse seemed to catch in his throat. Ginny's eyes had narrowed and there was now a flicker of something behind them. Something accusing him. Harry felt a horrible sickening wave of guilt rush over him. Guilt for what he did not know. But he knew it was consuming him, eating him away. He knew he could not act. He could not strike.

"Do it now, Harry," Nevins was saying somewhere far away. "You can't stop to think. Disarm it!"

But Harry was frozen to the spot. He felt himself start to shake. The power of the guilt seemed to grab hold of him like a glove. A voice inside his head told him that any action he took would hurt him, that any choice he would make was wrong.

"Just get rid of it then!"

Nevins was shouting now. But still Ginny advanced. And the closer she got, the more Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to stop her.

"Harry, do it now! Don't make me – you can't – Harry, no, you – "

And then very suddenly Nevins had run over and stood in front of the Boggart. Harry felt the crushing weight of his own angst leave him as the Boggart turned toward Nevins. He quickly stepped to one side.

Nevins pointed his wand at the Boggart. Harry noticed with surprise that Nevins no longer looked calm at all. His face was bright with deep purple blotches and when he spoke his voice was full of hysteria.

"Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddik – "

There was a popping noise and the Boggart changed form. Though Harry could not remember ever meeting its new face in person, it was unmistakable from the moving photographs he had poured over ever since his first day at Hogwarts.

It was Harry's father.

"Riddikulus! Riddikulus! R – r – "

Nevins fell to the floor in a heap.

"Professor Nevins!" cried Harry, alarmed.

"Make it stop!" whimpered Nevins, pulling his cloak over his head like a child who hoped he could make the monsters go away by hiding in his bed sheets. "Make it go away, please!"

Harry knew that he was the only one who could stop the Boggart now. He stepped in front of Nevins, his heart racing as he looked his own father in the eye. James' face was ghostly white, just as Ginny's had been, and his eyes flickered with the same accusing stare.

And then he paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing curiously, as if no longer sure he was facing the person to whom his blame was intended. Harry clutched his wand in his hand and the Boggart changed back into Ginny, its eyes narrowing again as it advanced on Harry.

Harry felt the cloud of guilt descend on his mind again but he forced himself to concentrate on something amusing.

"R – r – riddikulus!"

The Boggart staggered. Harry swished his wand again and it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Panting for breath, Harry moved to Professor Nevins. He could see right away that Nevins was now a pathetic shadow of the man who had taken such firm command of their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He remained sprawled across the floor, his back resting awkwardly on a chair and his breath coming only in panting rasps.

"Professor Nevins, are you all right?"

Nevins did not reply for a moment but stared up at the ceiling.

"Professor Nevins!" said Harry again.

"That will be all for today, Harry," said Nevins in a dream-like voice. "I'm afraid I'm not really feeling very well."

"Professor, I think I'd better take you to the hospital wing."

"No, Harry, that won't be necessary. Just – "

"But Professor, I – "

"GO!" Nevins boomed, his face purple, pointing a shaking finger at the door. "YOU'VE CAUSED ENOUGH TROUBLE AS IT IS! NOW JUST GO!"

Harry did not reply. Shaken, he quickly gathered his books and left the office as fast as he could.


	16. The Secret Room

Chapter 16

The Secret Room

Harry returned to the common room to find Hermione reading Ron's Potions assignment before class, making occasional groans, scowls, and corrections with her quill. It was all he could do to stumble to their table and slump down in the chair in front of them.

"You were fast, mate," said Ron. "I thought – "

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione interrupted, studying Harry with concern. "You look awful."

It was a great effort for Harry to open his mouth at all. When he finally did, however, he found he could not stop talking until he had told Ron and Hermione what had happened in Nevins' office. He did not, however, tell them that his Boggart had turned into Ginny. Instead, he said that it had taken the form of a Dementor.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, his eyes wide.

Hermione looked shocked as well. "Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry," she said.

"But then." Comprehension dawned on Ron's face. "He must have had some reason for being afraid of your father, mustn't he? I mean – but why?"

"Hagrid must know," said Harry softly. "He keeps giving me hints."

Ron gulped. "Do you – do you reckon you ought to ask him?"

"No, Ron!" said Hermione. "Of course he won't tell us. But I think Nevins ought to tell Harry."

"I don't know if he can," said Harry. "I don't know how he's going to cope with this at all. He looked awful when I left his office."

"And you look awful, too, mate," said Ron. He picked up a bowl of chocolate from the table and handed a square to Harry. "Go on, have a bit of this."

Harry took a square of chocolate and started eating it. Almost immediately, he began to feel better.

"Thanks, Ron," he said. He frowned at the bowl of chocolate. "Is this someone's Valentine gift?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks of amazement.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Blimey, don't you know?" asked Ron. "Madam Pomfrey put these all over the common room. After what happened last night, she didn't want to take any more chances."

Harry continued to stare blankly at his two friends. "What happened last night?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged meaningful looks again. Harry suddenly realized that with all of the fuss about the Valentines he hadn't had a proper conversation with his two friends all day.

"Harry went to bed early, remember, after Quidditch practice?" said Hermione to Ron.

"Yeah, but I didn't think anyone could have slept through that racket."

"Why don't you two drag things out a little longer?" Harry suggested.

"Sorry," said Ron. "Ginny's roommate – what's her name?" he asked Hermione. "Long blond hair," he explained to Harry.

"Catherine," said Hermione, with a very faint note of reproach.

"Yeah, her. She had some kind of fainting spell last night. Had to go to the hospital wing. She's just resting today. Madam Pomfrey said she'd be all right. Bit scary though."

Hermione shook her head. "The stress must be too much for her. For all of them. It's a good thing Madam Pomfrey put out that chocolate. I think they'll need it."

"Sorry," said Harry. "All of who?"

"The fifth years?" said Hermione, looking at Harry like he was slightly dense. "The O.?"

"Or did you forget taking yours?" asked Ron.

"But," said Harry. "The O. aren't 'till the end of the year."

"You really haven't gotten out much this term, have you?" said Ron.

"I've been… preoccupied."

"They changed the O. this year," explained Hermione. "They're taking half at the end of the term but they're taking the other half right after the Easter holidays. They say it's so there'll be less pressure and more time to study, but personally I think it's going to make things worse."

"All because Hannah Abbot had to spend all summer in St. Mungo's when her brain engorgement charm misfired," said Ron.

Harry paused to consider the implications of what Ron and Hermione were saying. Jack Sloper was a fifth year, but he had never once told Harry about the upcoming exams or complained about their extra team practices. More to the point nor had Ginny. Harry suddenly felt a little guilty, then he heard Ron say:

"Ginny's been in a right state."

Harry looked up at Ron quickly, still thinking about the Boggart. He was fairly certain that Ron had failed to notice the odd look on his face but he was much less sure it had completely escaped Hermione's attention.

"She's all wound up about it and all," Ron went on. "What with Charlie and Bill and Percy being so perfect. And Mum getting in a fit about Fred and George and then there was my History of Magic failure, as if I need History of Magic, anyway."

"Totally stupid what they're doing with the test schedule," declared Hermione, shaking her head. "Totally stupid."

Harry sighed. That explained why she had been studying with the fifth years. They had obviously been testing each other. He suddenly realized he had been so frightened about what Ginny might say to him that he had hardly talked to her all term. Yet it now seemed obvious that her mind had been on something else altogether.

* * *

Lately, Harry had been retiring to bed relatively early after nights of exhausting Quidditch practice but on that evening, without telling Ron and Hermione why, he stayed up to study together with them until finally first Hermione and then Ron went to bed. Neither of them asked Harry further about his strange encounter with Nevins and the Boggart. Hermione did suggest that he should get to bed early but did not object when Harry suggested that continuing to finish his report for History of Magic would help to keep him preoccupied.

Harry stayed up to study long after Ron and Hermione had gone to bed. But he was not alone in the common room. Several of the fifth-years, including Ginny, were studying in a group at a corner table, as Harry had guessed they would be. Harry watched, a little absent-mindedly, as they each got up and left in turn until finally Ginny was the only one left.

Harry waited until the last of Ginny's study partners had closed the door to her room before he got up and very slowly walked over to where she was sitting. That very same morning he would have given anything for the chance to sit Ginny down alone and have a serious, if awkward, conversation in which he explained that his feelings for her did not go beyond friendship. But that morning now seemed a very long time ago. Harry reflected to himself not for the first time that day how self-centered he had been and how stupid to let the whole question of Ginny's crush bother him so badly that he feared her more than Dementors or Voldemort.

Ginny did not look up as he approached but remained absorbed in her work. As he walked over to her, Harry watched as her eyes moved from the book open on her desk to the parchment on which she was writing, deep in concentration. He couldn't help but think how different she looked from the Boggart that had adopted her likeness. The Boggart had seemed so cold and lifeless but, although Harry wasn't sure why, in the simple act of looking at a book, the real Ginny seemed to radiate life.

And then Ginny did look up. And for the briefest of moments, their eyes met and neither said a word. Then, as if nothing had happened, Harry said:

"Hi, Ginny."

"Hi, Harry."

Ginny looked back down at her work again, perhaps assuming that Harry was only intending to greet her and then move on to bed. When he did not move after a few moments, however, she put down her quill and looked up at him again.

"Er," said Harry. "I – I'm sorry I never got a chance to thank you again for your Christmas present. I've listened to it a lot. I really like it."

Ginny smiled, a slightly tired smile, Harry thought.

"That's OK, Harry."

"You're studying for your O.?"

Ginny nodded and sighed. "Too many tests, not enough O. in the family already, apparently," she said, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Well, I – I'm sure you'll do well," Harry said, a little lamely, he thought.

"Thanks." Ginny looked back down at her book, rubbing a tired eye.

"Well, good night."

"Good night, Harry."

But Harry still did not leave. He still wasn't sure quite why he had stopped to talk to Ginny in the first place, except that he seemed to have a pressing need to make sure she was still in one piece after the Boggart incident. He had fully intended to leave after saying good night but something seemed to root him to the spot. He felt a sudden urge to move closer still.

And then Ginny looked up from her paper and their eyes met again. There was a puzzled look on her face as if she was seeing him properly for the first time that evening.

"Harry?" she said.

Harry looked away and coughed uncomfortably. "Sorry I was just lost in thought. Good night." He turned around without looking at her and walked back to his dormitory, closing the door behind him. All of his roommates were now asleep. Harry sat on the bed for a moment and sighed. His brief talk with Ginny left him feeling somewhat unsatisfied. Then he rifled through his drawer for a piece of parchment. The first one he found was red and he stuffed that back decisively. That would definitely give her the wrong idea. He settled on a slightly faded piece of off-white parchment and began to write in what he hoped was a casual scrawl:

Ginny,

I can imagine it must be really hard to take the O. in such a big family. Ron was always talking about how your mum bugged him about Percy and Charlie and Bill. But it's not really as bad as you think -

That was a lie, thought Harry, but he kept writing.

- Anyway, if you need any help you can always ask me. Good luck.

Your friend,  
Harry

* * *

The next morning, Harry left breakfast early and went to the owlery to deliver the parchment to Hedwig. By lunch time, he was engrossed in a hushed discussion with Hermione about Nevins' hidden secret. She was telling him that he should owl Lupin about it to see if he knew anything when Harry spotted Hedwig flying over his head to deliver the parchment to Ginny who was just getting up from a hastily consumed lunch. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Hedwig flapped her wings noisily in front of Ginny in a Pigwidgeon-like manner before dropping the parchment in front of her. Ginny frowned in curiosity and then unrolled the parchment but before she could read it, Hedwig had stretched out her wing and nuzzled it against Ginny's arm, causing her to giggle. Harry had never seen the usually dignified Hedwig behave in such an openly affectionate manner to anyone before, not even him. Finally, Ginny read the letter and owl and recipient trotted slowly over to Harry. Harry fed Hedwig an owl treat and then looked up at Ginny.

Ginny held up the parchment in her hand.

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "I will."

And then Ginny bent over and kissed him on the cheek before striding briskly out of the hall.

Harry sat frozen to the spot for a moment. There was a strange tingling warmth at the place where Ginny had kissed him like the memory of a comfortable fire. But then, almost as if Harry could feel it coming, the warmth began to fade and Harry conjured the sudden image of plunging from the top of the castle on a warm summer's day down into the dark, icy depths of the lake below. The dark, icy feeling seemed to travel from his face down through his throat and settle uncomfortably in his stomach.

He looked ahead and was surprised to see Hermione scrutinizing him. She looked very concerned.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry after a moment's pause. "I – I don't think I feel like eating any more lunch."

Hermione continued to frown at Harry for a moment. Then both of them jumped as a pile of heavy books was abruptly dropped on the table next to them.

"Are you finished with that, Harry?" asked Ron, indicating a bowl of chicken drumsticks on the table in front of him.

Harry nodded absently.

"Good, I'm starving. You two are lucky to be out of Divination, that's all I have to say. So," he said brightly, looking from Harry to Hermione. "What are we talking about?"

* * *

For Ginny and her fellow fifth-years, the weeks until the Easter holidays passed by very fast. Ginny's routine changed very little each day. She and her friends developed a rotating schedule of study for each of their subjects and spent most every day and every night reading books and sharing parchments of notes. Ginny's attitude, on the other hand, had changed a great deal since receiving the note from Harry. She did not think it suggested any romantic interest on his part and had not failed to notice that it had arrived the day after Valentine's Day, but it no longer seemed that Harry had only as much regard for her as the leg of a chair which was the impression he had given during the first few weeks of the term. Although the date of their first set of O. grew ever nearer, Ginny found that she no longer seemed filled with a sense of despair that there was so much to study and so little time. Only once did she take Harry up on his offer for help with her work but it still felt as if he was always present in the battle in her heart against the dueling phantoms of her successful older brothers. Even more encouragingly, Ginny had still not had any nightmares about Harry since the night of the Guy Fawkes ball.

Most everyone stayed during the Easter holidays, including all of the fifth years. Finally, on the last Sunday evening of the holidays, the examiners were seen arriving, along with many of the returning students, to begin the O. that Monday morning. At dinner the evening before, Ginny sat with Amanda, Catherine, and Colin, discussing their strategy for the final squeeze before the next morning's tests.

"There's no use," Amanda sighed. "We're going to have to stay up all night. There's still too many charms we haven't gone over yet."

"My mum says that if you study it all the night before, you'll forget after the next day," said Colin.

"We've not just been studying the night before," retorted Amanda. "We just have to finish."

Catherine sighed and put down her napkin. "I don't think I can eat anymore. I'll go and get a table for us in the common room."

"You're not studying with us," said Amanda decisively. "You're supposed to rest, remember?"

"But how am I supposed to take this test if I'm not allowed to study?"

"You'll do better if you're not about to faint in the exam room," replied Ginny.

"I'll just stay for a few hours then," said Catherine and got up to leave.

"Don't worry," said Ginny to Colin and Amanda, who looked a little despondent. "It'll be all right. We can go on a bakery run after everyone else shifts off to bed."

"What's a bakery run?" asked Colin.

"Fred and George used to go on bakery runs," explained Ginny. "Last minute studying was a regular thing for them. You nip out at night, watch for Filch, and then go down to the kitchens. If you get there about two or three, the house elves are just starting to bake the pastries for breakfast and they're ever so fresh."

"You can't just go nicking things from the house elves," said Colin indignantly.

"They don't mind," said Amanda. "You S.P.E.W. chaps never understand this. They like giving away things. You don't have to come, of course," she added, reading Colin's frown. "But I think it sounds like a wonderful idea."

And so later on that evening, the fifth years sat sprawled throughout the Gryffindor common room, untidy parchments and dusty tomes cluttering the desks around them. It had been several hours since Hermione, Harry, and Ron had stopped to wish Ginny good luck before going to bed. Not long afterward, Ginny and Amanda had forced Catherine to bed herself. As the long night wore on, more and more of the fifth years seemed to come to the decision that there was no use trying to cram any more facts into their heads. Ginny, Amanda, and a reluctant Colin had decided to brave the kitchens at three. As the clock passed two, Ginny felt as if someone had attached lead weights to her eyelids, but she was pleased that she had thought of going on the bakery run. The thought of a fresh, warm pastry sticking to her tongue forced her to push on. Finally, Amanda announced with delight the arrival of three o'clock and she and Ginny quickly stood up and made their way across to the portrait hole.

Amanda turned back and looked at Colin.

"You're not coming?"

Colin grudgingly stood up and followed them.

"Don't be surprised if they don't give you anything," he said as the three of them walked out of the portrait hole. "That's if we get past Filch and Mrs. Norris."

"I asked if you were coming, I wasn't asking you to come," hissed Amanda.

"Well, you wouldn't get very far without a S.P.E.W. representative, I assure you."

"Ginny's brothers did just fine."

"That was before Hermione got militant!"

"I don't see much militance," retorted Amanda.

"Oh, you just wait."

"Perhaps you'll both shut up so we're not caught," whispered Ginny as the three of them made their way down to the bottom of the staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower and out into the main hallway.

Not just on one occasion did Ginny wish they had Harry's invisibility cloak with them as they got lost after dodging several ghosts and then, right as they were almost on top of the entrance to the kitchens, found themselves face to face with Mrs. Norris who glowered menacingly at them. Fortunately, Ginny had thought to bring some cat treats with her that she had borrowed from Hermione. Mrs. Norris glared at her for a few heart-stopping moments as Ginny put the treats down on the floor in front of her, but then decided that appetite was much more important than duty and settled down contentedly to eat the snacks that Ginny had left.

Their way clear, Amanda, Colin, and Ginny opened the door that led into the kitchens. Ginny knew that Filch wouldn't be far away and had every intention of leaving with the pastries as quickly as possible and then returning to Gryffindor Tower where they could be safely enjoyed. She was very surprised when the house elves, who had been busy over several bread-loaf shaped stoves and enormous cauldrons when they first entered, yelped in surprise and quickly gathered into a tight group at the center of the room to block their path.

Ginny had been about to open her mouth to say something when each of the elves reached into the folds of the tatty aprons that formed their only garments and produced equally shabby dark green hats which they placed upon their heads. Ginny noticed that each hat had a gold star in the middle.

One of the house elves, who seemed slightly familiar to Ginny, stepped forward and cleared his throat. Spotting Colin, his eyes widened:

"Colin Creevey, sir," he said. "What an honor to have a senior member of S.P.E.W. in our midst!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully but then, very suddenly, as if wrestling with a split-personality, stepped back and folded his arms.

"And who are these?" He indicated Amanda and Ginny, his eyes narrowing and his ears twitching back and forth with suspicion. "What is their purpose here?"

Colin turned to look at Amanda and Ginny, meeting their looks of surprise with an expression of smug satisfaction.

"These are my friends, Dobby," he said, choosing his words very carefully. "This is Amanda, and this is Ginny," he said, gesturing to each of them in turn. "We are studying for our O. and we wondered if you might be kind enough to give us some refreshments from the bakery."

Several of the house elves broke into large grins. From her limited experience with house elves in the past, Ginny felt sure that Colin had been much too polite and they would soon be returning to Gryffindor Tower with enough pastries to feed breakfast to all of its sleeping occupants twice over. But as the house elves made to get the pastries, they were stopped by another elf who had emerged from the side.

"We's don't just rush off to do their bidding anytime they like now. They's not our boss. They's only children. Remember what we've learned."

This house elf, whom Ginny guessed to be female from the way she talked, was wearing a dusty green hat with a star like the others yet her apron was not dirty and disheveled and it did not look as if she had been doing very much work around the kitchen.

At her words, several of the house elves looked disappointed but most murmured and nodded and several, including Dobby, reached into the folds of their aprons and produced small identical red books with gold lettering on the front.

"We's can't be too rude, Winky," said Dobby. "This is Colin Creevey, a member of S.P.E.W."

"I'm in S.P.E.W., too," said Ginny tentatively, remembering how Hermione had harassed her into joining the mailing list two years before.

"So am I," added Amanda, earning a nasty look from Colin.

Winky folded her arms and looked suspiciously at the three of them. "Very well," she said finally. "But give them only what they need. Don't be too eager. 'Tis us, not them, who's have to answer if there aren't enough pastries for breakfast in the morning."

Dobby immediately stepped forward, along with several of the other house elves, looking slightly relieved, and beckoned Ginny, Amanda, and Colin over to a door at the side of the kitchen. Winky watched them for a moment and then she and the house elves returned to the other part of the kitchen.

"Dobby is very sorry about Winky, sir," said Dobby to Colin as he jumped up and grasped hold of a large door handle with both hands and rode on it until it had opened far enough to admit the three Gryffindors. "Winky was not interested in joining S.P.E.W. at first," he went on, jumping back down to the floor and walking in through the door, "but now it's all she talks about."

Colin turned triumphantly to Amanda and Ginny as they followed Dobby into what appeared to be a large pantry. "Winky is proof people are wrong when they say the house elves don't want good working conditions. It's just that it's all they've been told for so long, they don't know how to believe anything else."

"'Tis true, sir, 'tis very true," muttered Dobby as several of the house elves lifted down a large, very tasty looking tray of freshly baked pastries.

"Dobby," said Ginny, "what's that book you have?"

Dobby reached for the small red book that was now half-hanging out of his apron and gave it to Ginny with a proud smile.

"We house elves made it ourselves. We still can't read but we enchanted the books so that they talk to us when we open different pages. We made our hats, too, since otherwise we would be accepting clothes." Dobby still looked a little crestfallen at this but brightened when he noticed Ginny studying the cover.

Ginny's eyes widened as soon as she saw the lettering on the front, which read:

COLLECTED SAYINGS OF MISS HERMIONE GRANGER

Ginny opened the book to the first page and nearly dropped it as Hermione's voice came booming out stridently from inside:

"Oppression is complete when individual agents become the tools of production rather than the masters of it. True liberty - "

Ginny turned another page.

"House elves will never become masters of their own destiny so long as knowledge and discourse remain solely in the hands of an elite community of wizards and witches. In order to balance – "

Ginny flipped to another page.

"Ron, I really don't think we should be snogging in the kitch – "

Ginny closed the book shut with a wince and handed it back to Dobby who gingerly replaced it in his pocket.

"Dobby, what's down here?" asked Amanda, as the house elves took individual pastries from the tray and began to wrap them neatly in a small basket.

Both Dobby and Ginny looked over to find Amanda standing at the far end of the pantry. As they moved closer, Ginny could see that behind a final row of shelves was a door. The door was slightly ajar, revealing an opening that led down a long corridor. What caught Amanda and Ginny's interest most of all was that a steady light seemed to pulse at the end, far too regularly to be the flame from a lantern.

"'Tis an old room," replied Dobby. "Not much used now."

"If it's not much used now, where is that light coming from?" wondered Ginny, half to herself. "Do you mind if we take a look?"

Dobby shrugged.

"Are you really sure we ought to?" asked Colin, who had joined them.

"Yes," replied Amanda, sounding a little annoyed.

"Well, I'm staying here," declared Colin. "I don't think – "

He was interrupted by the sound of a gasp from Ginny. Unseen by all of them, Winky had bounded into the pantry and now stood in front of the door to the corridor with her arms folded.

"You's not allowed inside! 'Tis private, private room for the house elves!"

"Winky!" Dobby walked forward angrily. "'You's rude to our guests! 'Tis no such thing and you know it!"

Winky turned around to face Dobby defiantly. "They's just controlling you, Dobby. They have no respect. They's just tricking you, trying to wander around in our kitchens, do whatever they likes!"

"They's in S.P.E.W!"

"This one is." Winky pointed to Colin. "But I don't know about the others."

"It's all right, Dobby," Colin chimed in. "We don't have to go anywhere. We – "

He winced as Amanda stepped on his toe. "But we would really like to if it's possible."

Winky looked as if she was about to protest again but at that moment, while Amanda, Colin, Dobby, and Winky were engaged in their battle of words, Ginny neatly ducked past Winky and began striding down the corridor in the direction of the light.

Ginny was immediately assaulted by a dank, musty smell that suggested the corridor was, like most of Hogwarts, very old. It might have also led Ginny to the impression that the corridor had not been used for a long time were it not for the insistent light at its end. The walls and floor were almost completely black and there was no evidence of lanterns or brackets where light other than the one ahead might have shone the way. As Ginny moved further down, the light seemed to grow stronger and Ginny could see more of her surroundings. She flinched as a group of rats scurried overhead and fought back a wave of claustrophobia as the corridor seemed to narrow out and move slightly downward. She took out her wand and held it out in front of her, feeling slightly annoyed that she had not thought of doing so earlier.

She had not advanced particularly far from the kitchens when her presence was missed. She heard what sounded like the protesting squeals of Winky and the anxious cries of Amanda but she continued to press on. Finally, when the narrow corridor moved in sideways so much that Ginny had to turn her body at an angle and the ceiling fell so low that she had to bend over, it gave way to another, much larger room that seemed to be the source of the light.

Ginny straightened up and took a careful look at her surroundings. The room she had entered was fairly long, about three times that of the Gryffindor common room, but also very narrow. Ginny guessed she could walk across the width of the room at all points in about seven or eight long strides. Along one wall of the room were four large portraits. Ginny recognized one from the statue in their common room as Godric Gryffindor and guessed that the next two were those of Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and that the last, rather crooked-nosed, slightly balding wizard was Salazar Slytherin. All of the portraits seemed to be sleeping. On the other wall hung four large banners bearing the crests of each of the houses.

The ceiling of the room was also very high, almost as tall as the Burrow, Ginny guessed. Large unlit candelabras hung from the white ceiling, decorated with heavy cobwebs that suggested they had been neither used nor cleaned in some while. The walls from ceiling to floor were lined with elegant wood paneling which looked a little cleaner: the paintings themselves were spotless.

Ginny turned her attention to the source of the pulsating light. A large round table, which took up about one quarter of the length of the room and nearly all of its width was the room's only furniture. The table was surrounded by twelve chairs. Both the table and the furniture, like the surrounding portraits, were spotlessly clean. At the center of the table was a raised black dais. On the top of the dais sat a large cauldron which appeared to be empty of any potion. Suspended in the air about an inch from the top of the cauldron was a large crystal. The crystal revolved in the air like the beacon on a lighthouse and a light glowed from within, shining whenever a part of the crystal turned around to face Ginny.

As she walked slowly nearer the table, Ginny could see that the light was not completely white. There was a faint blue tinge to it, like the light from an old star she had once viewed through a telescope on the Astronomy Tower. Though Ginny was sure she had seen neither the crystal nor the light before, she could not shake the feeling there was something very familiar about them.

"Ginny," said a panting voice from behind her.

Ginny turned around startled as if breaking out of a dream. Amanda stood in the doorway to the room, flanked by a nervous looking Dobby and a disgruntled-looking Winky.

"Are you all right?" asked Amanda.

"I'm fine," replied Ginny.

"Where are we?"

"'Tis an old room," said Dobby. "'Tis the original room of Hogwarts."

"The original room?" asked Ginny.

Winky growled and murmured something under her breath.

Dobby nodded. "'Tis underground so the Muggles couldn't find it. Before the enchantments. This is where they all met: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. We used to use it to store food but sometimes we is forgetting and the food got old." He shrugged apologetically. "It hasn't been used in at least one hundred years, I think."

"Then what are these?" Amanda had walked over to the other side of the table. Ginny looked over and noticed for the first time that there was something on the chairs, slightly obscured from view by the sides of the table.

Ginny gasped as Amanda held up two long black cloaks with long green snakes embroidered on either side.

"They's just some old things," said Winky suddenly. "Old cloaks left by old masters."

But Ginny walked around to join her roommate and saw right away that far from being old as Winky had said, the robes looked quite new.

Winky put her arms on her hips as if willing Ginny and Amanda to defy her while Dobby merely shrugged. Ginny looked back at Amanda and saw that she did not look very convinced by Winky's explanation either. Ginny ran her hand over the snake and shuddered.

"These look like Slytherin things," said Amanda.

Ginny looked down the robes and noticed out of the corner of her eye that the table behind them was ringed with small drawers, each adorned with a small brass knocker in the shape of different animals. A drawer with a snake knocker near the chair where they were standing was slightly open. Ginny pulled it open further. The drawer creaked slightly, and seemed quite old, but there was a black velvet lining inside that looked recently cleaned.

And resting neatly on top of the lining was a mask. Ginny did not need to be told what this mask was, nor would she ever be likely to forget the horrible faces that had stood right across from her once in the Department of Mysteries and then many times since in her darkest dreams.

Ginny went very pale as she gingerly caught hold of the mask and held it up for Amanda to see.

Amanda gasped. "But those – those are – "

"They belong to Death Eaters," finished Ginny.

"Then." Amanda paused and swallowed nervously. "Th – this must be some kind of meeting place for some kind of – of group – like Death Eaters in training or something." She grimaced.

Ginny held the mask in her hand thoughtfully. She rested it in the palm of one hand. Even with her fingers outstretched, she could barely bridge the distance between the openings for the eyes and mouth.

"Not in training," Ginny said, almost in a whisper, dropping the mask back into the drawer like it was a hot coal. "These masks are too big. These are for grown-up Death Eaters."

Amanda looked very queasy. "Ginny, let's get out of here."

Ginny did not respond right away. Her gaze had moved up once again to the pulsating light and her eyes opened wide.

"Ginny?" said Amanda more urgently.

Ginny nodded slowly.

Feeling this was not quite enough, Amanda took hold of Ginny's hand and the two girls made their way quickly toward the exit, trailed closely by Dobby and Winky who said nothing. They marched back through the corridor with long strides and when they had returned to the pantry, Ginny closed the door behind her and leaned on it until she heard an old catch click into position.

"What's going on?" asked Colin, holding a neatly tied bundle of pastries in his hand. "What was down there?"

"Nothing," replied Amanda shortly. "Now let's take the pastries and go."

"But what – " Colin looked at Ginny.

"You heard her," said Ginny, almost as sharply as Amanda and she led the way out of the pantry, not saying a word to Dobby, Winky, or any of the other house elves. She felt very little like eating anything now and fed generous amounts of pastries to Mrs. Norris who was still eyeing them as they left the kitchens. She felt very, very weary and after she Amanda and Colin had returned wordlessly to the Gryffindor common room, Ginny found it almost impossible to concentrate on her studies. It wasn't long before she left Amanda and Colin, went up to her dormitory and fell into a quick but restless sleep.

* * *

Following lunch the next day, Hermione sank into a large armchair and read over an Arithmancy parchment while Harry and Ron snatched a quick game of wizard chess before Potions. Crookshanks sat curled up in Hermione's lap and Snitch stood on the side of the chess board, occasionally trumpeting in alarm whenever a piece was destroyed. Ron looked between the two pets slightly warily but restrained himself from saying anything at first. Things proved too much, however, when Ron's queen finally placed Harry in check, however, and Snitch jumped onto the board, attempting to destroy the queen himself.

"Get away!" cried Ron.

"Snitch, get away," snapped Harry.

Snitch looked up at Harry with large sorrowful eyes.

"Get away!" repeated Harry.

"Snitch!" Hermione clapped her hands. She took a bonglewhomper from the side of the board where Harry had been feeding Snitch earlier and held it out in her hand.

Snitch looked uncertainly over at Hermione and Crookshanks, who appeared fairly docile but still had one eye open and cast in Snitch's direction. Harry made a waving motion with his hands and after a moment's indecision, Snitch hopped merrily across the board, knocking two of Ron's pawns over in the process, and landed right in front of Hermione who fed him a bonglewhomper. Crookshanks evidently thought this was beneath his attention, closed his eye, and drifted into a comfortable nap.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with that thing." Harry sighed.

"You just have to know how to take care of him," chided Hermione.

Harry looked up at Ron as if expecting an acerbic retort but when he realized none would be forthcoming, he replied:

"Bribe him more like."

Hermione shrugged and fed Snitch another bonglewhomper.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. The three friends looked up to see Ginny walking over to the table. She looked slightly pale and her eyes were bloodshot.

"Ginny," said Ron immediately. "How did the test go? Is it over?"

Ginny didn't reply. Instead she just said in a low but determined voice:

"I need to show you something," said Ginny. "All of you. Right away."

Ron frowned and looked at his watch.

"Can it wait? Only we've got Potions in a half hour."

Ginny shook her head. "I think we'd better go now. Please," she added as Ron looked about to object. "It's important."

Harry looked at Hermione and saw that the prospect of being late for Potions had caused her own brow to crease with uncertainty. But he got up from his chair and said:

"Well, we'd better go then."

* * *

Ginny led Hermione, Ron, and Harry briskly through the corridors and down the stairs toward the kitchen.

"Where are we going?" demanded Ron.

"I can't tell you here, obviously," said Ginny in a business-like manner, glancing around a little furtively at the throngs of students and the occasional teacher wandering the corridors during their lunch hour.

The end of her sentence was drowned out slightly by the cries of Snitch, who was peering out of Harry's breast pocket. In the rush to leave to see whatever it was Ginny wanted to show them and still make it back to Potions on time, Harry had decided to take the creature with him instead of returning it to his dormitory as Hermione had done with Crookshanks, a decision he had regretted as soon as he'd left the common room. Snitch, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, peered out of Harry's pocket and the eclectic stream of humanity wandering up and down the corridors around them. Whenever anyone walked near them, which happened often, he would let out a large cry like an over-sensitive proximity alarm. This attracted far more attention to the four Gryffindors than Harry sensed that Ginny wanted.

As they walked down further into the castle, it seemed for a moment that Ginny was leading them right to the Potions classroom itself, but just as they had almost reached the room, they took a sharp left turn and went down another set of stairs to what Harry recognized as the kitchen. Snitch tried to cry out again but Harry stuffed him further down into his pocket.

"Amanda, Colin, and I came here last night," explained Ginny as they reached the kitchen doors. "On a bakery run."

"Fred and George," said Ron approvingly.

Ginny nodded quickly. "But we found something else, too, something that could be important."

Before the others could ask or object, Ginny had opened the door to the kitchen and the four of them stepped through the door inside.

At first, no one noticed them come in. The house elves were running around furiously, trying to catch large piles of dirty plates that whizzed down haphazardly from large holes that opened in the ceiling, evidently from the Great Hall. One house elf suddenly turned around and saw them there, then gasped and ran forward. He was soon joined by several others who quickly moved into close formation and fumbled in their aprons for their small green hats which they placed on their heads so quickly that most of them hung at a lopsided angle.

One house-elf, who Ginny recognized as Dobby, did a half-running leap from behind an oven and landed, slightly awkwardly in front of his fellows.

"Harry Potter, sir!" he cried in an almost imploring voice, "and Hermione Granger! What an honor, what an honor!"

Dobby went on with what sounded like additional praise but it was drowned out by the sound of several plates flying from the ceiling and smashing unattended onto the floor of the kitchen.

"Dobby," said Ginny, stepping forward. "We need a favor."

"Anything, anything," said Dobby ingratiatingly.

"We need to go back into the room at the end of the corridor, the one we went to last night."

Dobby's smile seemed to fade slightly and a look of hesitation flickered briefly across his face.

"Of course, of course. This way." He gestured toward the pantry. "But." He turned quickly to look at the others who had already started to follow him, causing Ron to trip over the back of Harry's foot.

"Do not tell Winky," Dobby said, lowering his voice as he led them through the pantry door. "She is – she has," he lowered his voice even further so that Harry had to bend down and lean forward to hear him, "become very difficult lately."

Harry thought of his meeting with Winky earlier that year and frowned. She had seemed just as eager to please as Dobby did now.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked.

Dobby shook his head a little sadly. "Dobby does not know. At first Dobby was pleased. Winky was horribly depressed for so long but then Winky began to get bossy." He frowned in anger. "Bossing everyone around. Protective of the kitchen. Rude to visitors."

Hermione thrust her chin forward proudly. "You mean she got a taste of freedom."

Dobby was obviously not willing or not able to contradict Hermione but Harry sensed he did not look convinced.

"Where is Winky, anyway?" asked Ron as they continued to walk among the pantry shelves.

"She is taking a noon time rest, sir," replied Dobby. "Winky feels she is entitled to days off now."

"Of course she is!" said Hermione.

"Well, it's not really fair, though, is it, if the other house elves don't get them?" Ron asked, a little cautiously.

"Dobby thinks so, too, sir," said Dobby, "but Dobby does not like to say."

They had now reached the entranceway to the corridor. Ginny continued to lead the way and seemed to have little interest in the conversation going on around her. The others had to quicken their pace to keep up with her.

The door to the passageway was closed. Ginny reached forward without hesitation and tried the handle.

"It's locked," she announced.

Hermione took out her wand but before she could use it, Dobby made a motion with his hand as if throwing a ball and the door clicked open. He folded his arms and looked back proudly at the four students.

Without stopping to acknowledge Dobby, Ginny pushed open the door and started to walk down the corridor, holding her wand out in front of her. After a few steps, she realized that she was alone. She turned around to beckon to the others.

"What's down there?" she heard Ron ask, a little fearfully.

"You'll see," said Ginny impatiently. "Now come on!"

But the others still did not move.

"Is this some kind of April Fool's prank?" asked Ron, uncomfortably aware that his voice was echoing off the walls of the otherwise silent corridor ahead of them. "Did Fred and George – "

"I wish," replied Ginny curtly. She beckoned them once last time with her hand before turning and walking down into the corridor itself. After a moment, she heard the reluctant footsteps of the three sixth-years behind her. She had moved a few more steps forward, however, when she could see that something was wrong. It took another moment for her to realize that the corridor was lit only by the light of the kitchen behind them. The area ahead was pitch black.

"Lumos," said Ginny and the others shortly followed suit.

Ron's wand illuminated an overweight black rat scurrying just beside them on the wall.

"Should have known there were rats down near the kitchens," he remarked.

The corridor sloped down further. Ron complained about the distance but Ginny ignored him. Finally, Ron and Harry had to bend over double to fit through the small opening at the end before the four of them finally emerged into the room Ginny had visited the night before.

"Whoa," said Ron as they made it inside. He, Harry, and Hermione looked all around them, taking in the high ceiling and the large portraits on the walls.

Ginny, however, made straight for the table at the middle, holding her wand light out in front of her. As soon as she had reached it, she could see that the cauldron and the crystal that had sat there the night before had now vanished. She quickly moved around to the other side of the table. There was nothing on the chairs. She opened the drawer that she and Amanda had examined the night before but it, too, was empty.

"I don't understand," said Ginny, exasperated. "They were here last night. They must be here somewhere." With a cry of frustration, she opened all of the drawers around the table in quick succession but there was nothing to be found.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry approached the table where Ginny was standing, their wand lights casting not over the robes and masks of Death Eaters but the plain wooden table and the silk-lined shelves of the open drawers.

"What was here, Ginny?" asked Hermione in a tone a parent might use on a child who continued to stubbornly insist on her erroneous explanation.

"Death Eater things!" Ginny replied, hitting her fist on the table. "Robes and masks and – " She sighed and looked from Ron to Harry to Hermione imploringly. "Amanda was here! She saw it, too, and – and Dobby."

"Well, the place looks recently cleaned, doesn't it?" said Harry, trying to be helpful.

Just then, Snitch jumped out of Harry's pocket, landed on top of the table, and broke into an ear-splitting scream.

"Stop it, Snitch!" said Harry, annoyed as the others plugged their ears with their fingers. "Stop it!"

But Snitch did not stop. He continued to trumpet with his growing trunk and jump up and down, his round eyes filled with alarm.

"Snitch!" cried Harry again.

"You should listen to the stupid thing, Potter," said a voice from somewhere behind them. "It's trying to tell you something."

Even before he had turned around to face him, Harry knew all too well the voice's owner.

It was Draco Malfoy.


	17. The Duel

Chapter 17

The Duel

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron spun around to see Malfoy walking toward them from the opposite side of the room, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who were smirking at the no doubt surprised expressions on the faces of the four Gryffindors.

Malfoy took out his wand and shouted:

"Illuminare."

With a loud creaking sound that reminded Harry of a hundred trunks being dragged on the stone floor, the four portraits of the Hogwarts founders on the one side and the four banners on the other swung around revealing eight large lanterns resting on what Harry reasoned were either brass or gold holders, each fashioned into the heads of snakes. It reminded Harry a great deal of the Chamber of Secrets, except that these snakes had their mouths closed rather than their fangs opened wide. Their heads were lowered revealing on each a set of ruby eyes that glistened brightly as though their owners were patiently contemplating the best moment to strike. As soon as the heads were in position, the flames on each of the lanterns sprung into life, blazing the room in bright light.

The eyes of the four Gryffindors darted around the walls for a moment, but then turned back quickly to Malfoy. Ron drew out his wand first, followed by Harry, then Ginny, and then Hermione.

"You seem to know your way around this place, Malfoy," said Ron.

"I think you'll find there are quite a number of things they don't teach you in Gryffindor."

"You're quite right," Ron retorted. "We do without the Death Eater training."

Malfoy smiled. "Who said anything about Death Eaters?"

Ginny stepped forward. "This place was full of Death Eater things last night!"

"Is that so?" Malfoy cooed in an uncanny impression of his father. "Perhaps some of my fellow Slytherins were having fun before their O.. We do use this room from time to time, you know."

"They weren't students' things," said Ginny defiantly. "There have been real Death Eaters down here and you know it. And what about the crystal, and the cauldron? What are those for?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at Ginny in surprise.

Malfoy did not respond right away. He took a step closer to where the others were standing, looking at Ginny with curiosity. His attention was momentarily distracted when Ron moved Hermione closer to him and stuck his wand further out.

"You needn't worry, Weasley," Malfoy said, turning his head to look at him as if distracted by an annoying insect. "I have no interest in your mudblood girlfriend. Your sister, on the other hand, is another question." He turned his head to look back at Ginny, allowing his eyes to wander generously over her body. He smiled slowly. "Yes, I wouldn't mind having a go with her. Nothing very serious, of course, just enough to spoil her for Potter."

Ginny took a large step forward so that she was inches away from Malfoy's face. He did not retreat.

"You might try," she hissed, flecks of her spittle showering Malfoy, "only I hope you don't mind. I might have to vomit every time I look in your face."

Malfoy flinched very slightly but it was enough to give Ginny satisfaction. Her pleasure was short-lived, however, as Ron half-pushed, half-steered her to one side and drew himself up to face Malfoy, his face red in anger.

"You say anything like that to my sister again, Malfoy, and you'll be crawling back home to your father like a flubberworm!"

Malfoy's smile returned. "It must be that you've learned a few spells since we last met, Weasley. Or have you lost the use of your fist? I'll tell you what," he drawled on, before Ron could say anything in reply. "I'll give you a chance to show everyone here what you can do. Let's face it, Weasley, we've been up each other's arses since the start of the year. Why not relieve the tension once and for all? How about a little duel?"

"I'm his second," declared Hermione, before Ron could open his mouth to reply.

"And I'm his third," replied Ginny defiantly.

Crabbe and Goyle stumbled forward and grunted something which the others understood as their vague decision to be Malfoy's second and third in the duels.

"Good then." Malfoy walked to the other side of the round table. "Shall we begin? You should consider yourself in good company. I believe that Slytherin and Gryffindor themselves once used – "

Malfoy was cut off when Harry stepped forward and said.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I can't let you go through with your duel with Ron. Ginny may be his sister but it's my honor you've just attacked. Ron can be my second."

Ginny looked up at Harry in surprise. She realized for the first time that he had not said a word since Malfoy had first entered the room. She could see that, on some level, his anger was real. His cheeks were flushed and furious beads of sweats had collected on his forehead near his scar, but there was something in his tone of voice that sounded not altogether genuine.

Malfoy might have noticed it, too, because his face screwed up as he eyed Harry shrewdly. Ron quickly stepped forward to object but Harry put his hand out and he and Ron exchanged a glance that was at once both fleeting and significant, the practiced art of years of close friendship. Ron nodded, almost imperceptibly, and stepped back.

Malfoy looked even more suspicious at this and hesitated a little but then, with a quick glance at Crabbe and Goyle, who were looking at him expectantly, said:

"All right then, Potter. I suppose that sort of thing means a lot to you Gryffindors."

Harry stepped forward. "You have no idea," he replied, through teeth Ginny thought were not clenched in the most completely believable of ways.

Malfoy smiled again and moved to the opposite side of the table, holding his wand out in front of him. Harry moved to stand across from him. Ron moved to one side of Harry and Hermione and Ginny crossed to the other. Crabbe and Goyle left a much larger gap between themselves and Malfoy, who took little notice of them. He looked up at Harry and drawled with a slightly ironic smirk:

"I suppose you Gryffindors also like to follow all the formalities, bowing and so forth?"

"Actually," replied Harry, "I usually like to get things out of the way. Synchronis Totalis!"

Malfoy's smile faded almost as quickly as the beam from Harry's wand flew across the table. He had no chance to move as the curse hit him just below his right shoulder before traveling back to Harry.

Malfoy's expression contorted in an expression of surprise and horror. Before he could bring himself to retaliate, however, Harry pointed his wand at him again and said:

"Levitatus!"

The beam from Harry's wand hit him before bouncing back to Malfoy through the shared link of their Synchronis Totalis spell. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin vaulted high into the tall-ceilinged room. Harry quickly found that his weeks of painful practice with Nevins had paid off: once he reached the apex of his flight, he was able to maintain his balance. His arms spread out like the wings of a phoenix and his eyes trained on the ground like a hawk's, Harry readied himself for Malfoy's next retaliation. But it was soon clear that without his Nimbus 2001, Malfoy was every bit the eleven-year old boy who had run screaming in horror from a feeding Voldemort, and that was while he was still rising through the air. On his fall, Malfoy's panicked cries echoed off the walls of the room like a child's rubber ball. This soon proved far too much for Crabbe and Goyle, who, faced with the prospect of a rapidly descending Malfoy, turned heel and ran as fast as they could toward the far end of the room. Harry landed with a slight misstep so that, for a moment, Hermione feared he might twist his ankle, but he quickly righted himself without falling and pointed his wand at Malfoy.

Malfoy himself was far less fortunate. He tried to roll his fall into a tumble but still fell hard on his right hip, the way Harry had done when he had first practiced the charm. He came quickly out of the tumble, robes askew but wand outstretched. Ignoring the pain in his side, Malfoy opened his mouth to curse Harry but then hesitated as he felt the link between them, a link he was desperately trying to block as he fought Harry. It was during this moment of hesitation that Harry seized his chance.

"Serpensortia."

Ginny's eyes widened as a thick, long black snake wound its way out of Harry's wand like a jack-in-the-box and slithered angrily across the table toward Malfoy. At the same time, to Malfoy's own astonishment, an identical snake uncurled its way from Malfoy's own wand and headed toward Harry. Harry stuck out his left hand, however, and hissed a stream of Parseltongue at the on-rushing snake. It made a hard turn and followed its companion back across the table to Malfoy. Harry continued to hiss at the snakes who quickened their pace, mouths outstretched, flecks of venom spraying the top of the table. Malfoy stepped backward, his wand still outstretched, beads of sweat pooling in his slicked back hair.

With a nauseating plop, the magical snakes fell effortlessly off the table and continued to pursue Malfoy from the floor. Malfoy's face contorted in what looked like a suppressed shriek. He backed up on his feet for a moment. Then when it became clear he was being out-run, he turned around and belted after his erstwhile second and third.

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron turned around to look at Harry. Hermione looked impressed, Ron seemed afraid, and Ginny wore an expression of something like rapture.

"Harry, how did you – that was – " Ron began but quickly stopped as Harry waved his hands like a disgruntled conductor.

"We have to get out of here now," said Harry and without waiting for the others to respond, turned and charged back up the passageway toward the kitchens.

"Harry, wait!" cried Hermione when she found herself blocked by Ron who was trying unsuccessfully to contort his lanky frame so that it would fit back through the opening. "What's – "

"I have to find somewhere to think clearly," Harry shouted back, already halfway up the corridor. "Fast, before I lose the link!"

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron finally caught up to Harry as he belted up the narrow pathway through the rows of food in the pantry. Harry nearly ran over Dobby, who was standing in the middle of the room, looking up at him with an apprehensive expression on his face.

"Harry Potter, sir!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "So wonderful to see you safe, sir! Dobby heard shouting, sir; there are people in the original room, sir; Harry – "

Dobby was abruptly stopped in the middle of what would surely have been a much longer explanation when Ron grabbed his apron, lifted him in the air, and clasped a hand over his mouth. He thought of letting the house-elf down as they reached the kitchen, but Dobby's muffled cries suggested that to have done so would have been premature, so Ron continued to carry him along to ensure they would not have to break their stride.

"I'm really sorry, Dobby," said Hermione, panting alongside Ron and as far as Harry was concerned creating just as much distraction as the house-elf himself. "Harry just has to think, now. We're really very grateful to you."

Ron kept his hand clamped firmly down on Dobby's mouth as the house-elf tried to launch into what sounded like another barrage of questions, his eyes bulging like two enormous dinner plates.

"I – I'll be in touch about the meeting," Hermione continued. "I read some new books. We can just – "

They had reached the kitchen door now. Harry quickly opened it and darted out into the corridor. He looked on the point of closing it right away when Ron dropped Dobby and slid through followed quickly by Hermione, who shot a quick glance back to Dobby who started to speak just as the door was closing in his face. Ginny tucked her lithe body through the smallest of openings to follow them and then the slamming of the large kitchen door preceded an almost startling silence.

Harry quickly pressed his fingers to his temples as the others gathered around him to listen.

"It's like a dream," he said panting. "The link. Like waking up from a dream. I have to concentrate before I forget it all."

For a moment, it seemed as if Harry had lost his memory of the link with Malfoy altogether. But then words began to come out of his mouth in staccato fashion, like a radio station fading in and out with the turn of a tuning dial.

"Ginny was right."

Hermione shot a quick glance at Ginny who did not return her stare. Instead, she continued to watch Harry intently, though there was now a slight flush to her cheeks and the ghost of a smile on her face.

Harry's eyes widened as another piece of information began to coalesce in his head.

"Death Eaters," he said, his mouth rounding in alarm even as he spoke the words. "They were there, in that room. Marcus Flint. Lucius Malfoy. And someone – someone else – I can't – " He screwed up his face and clenched his fist.

"It's OK, Harry," said Hermione. "Just keep calm and concentrate."

"I am concentrating!"

Hermione put her hands up in a gesture of peace.

"They were here the night of the Guy Fawkes ball. Malfoy…." Harry stopped. His brow creased in concentration again.

"Malfoy was there, too?" Ron asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head, his eyes now squeezed shut. "Malfoy let them in. He cleared the way, made sure no one was around. That's how Lucius got into the original room. There's another entrance, too, not through the kitchens. That's how Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle got in today."

"But what about – " Ron began.

"Malfoy was here today, again, this morning," Harry went on breathlessly. "Very early. He took all the Death Eater things out. Clothes, and – and some kind of light, some kind of glowing crystal. He knew – " Harry's eyes snapped open suddenly. "He knew that Ginny had been here."

"But how?" asked Ginny.

"Someone told him. Someone knew."

"That fast?" asked Ron. "But who?"

"I don't know," said Harry, his forehead red with from the strain of concentrating on the pastiche of half-formed thoughts Malfoy had let through their link before he could block them.

"But how did old Lucius get into the school in the first place?" wondered Ron. "He's supposed to be in Azkaban. He can't have just wandered in."

"I – don't," Harry began. "It's just – " He suddenly released his fingers and sighed, his pallor returning quickly to normal. "It's all gone. That's all I could get."

"Nothing more?" asked Ginny rhetorically.

"Well, there was one other thing." Harry allowed himself a half-smile. "Malfoy's terrified of snakes."

"Harry," said Hermione after a moment's silence.

Harry turned to her, seeming to know what she was about to say. "I'll owl Dumbledore right away." Then he added, "we'd better go."

The others said nothing but followed without question, still a little uncertain of what to make of the display they had just witnessed. It was not that any of them would have questioned when asked whether their friend was destined to become a great wizard, something more than a boy grown-up from a small baby who had thwarted the most powerful dark lord in history by accident rather than his own design. But believing this and seeing him dispose of Malfoy like a truculent schoolboy rather than a wizard equal were two different things. Harry seemed to sense this also and continued to exude a kind of quiet authority as they walked back up the stairs.

The four Gryffindors had just reached the top of the stairs and were about to move once again into the bustle of other students and teachers, now just leaving what should have been Harry, Hermione, and Ron's afternoon potions class, when Ron felt someone take hold of his arm and pull him gently back.

It was Hermione.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?" Ron's brow creased.

"The duel with Malfoy should have been yours. But you knew Harry had a plan, and you held your anger long enough to trust him. And now we know much more."

* * *

Draco Malfoy tried to coax some color into his cheeks as he turned to face his father. It had been two days since his ill-fated duel with Potter and his right shoulder and hip still throbbed. Far worse, he had been every bit as impressed by Potter's abilities as his friends and wondered how he had been able to develop some of his skills from their regular defense classes. He had not told anyone about the duel, of course, and had threatened Crabbe and Goyle within an inch of their lives to silence. He did not think even they, however, had been bright enough to understand how far Potter had penetrated into his mind. Draco was fairly sure he had not been able to block his thoughts completely during his link with Potter and he prayed that the knowledge he had leaked would not be enough to upset their plans. Whatever the case, he had no intention of telling a soul.

Lucius Malfoy's beady eyes scrutinized Crabbe and Goyle as they moved the cauldron housing the crystal awkwardly back into position at the center of the table in the secret room. Every now and then they shifted back to Draco, who tried to feign an expression of polite indifference. Once the cauldron was in position, however, Lucius waved a nervous-looking Crabbe and Goyle away with a flick of his hand and turned back to look at his son.

"Are you quite well?" he demanded, flecks of black now streaking through his normally silver-blonde hair from where the Polyjuice disguise he had worn on entering the castle was still wearing off.

"Perfectly," replied Draco, trying, unsuccessfully, he thought, to match Lucius' gaze. He should have known his father would not be so easy to deceive.

"Why do you persist in massaging your shoulder? Surely the simple act of removing the items from this room did not cause you any lasting injury?"

"O – of course not, father. It is merely a habit I have picked up lately."

Lucius continued to eye his son. "I suggest you un-learn this habit. It would not do to manifest a poor case of nerves when we are so near the moment toward which we have worked for so long."

"And what moment is that, father?"

The healthy pallor Draco had wished for a few moments before quickly found its way to his cheeks in full force. For more than merely injuring his body and wounding his pride, Harry Potter's comprehensive victory in their duel two days before had broke open a great many of Draco's existing doubts like a stone stirring up dirt to the surface of a shallow pond. He shot a quick glance behind his father to see that Crabbe and Goyle had now left the room. He was not sure when he would have the opportunity to talk to his father again and with an insight borne of years of Slytherin training, Draco recognized the opportunity now presented him. He watched as his father's complexion grew twisted and blotchy but he forced himself to hold the accusatory stare with which he had first delivered his question.

"The moment in which we will finally rid ourselves of all these mudbloods and half-breeds, the moment…." Lucius stopped suddenly. "You know perfectly well what it is we are working for," he hissed. "If this is an another attempt to question – "

"I want nothing more to rid this school and our world of all these foul, sick creatures, as you taught me, father," Draco replied as Lucius seemed to simmer in a stew of barely controlled rage. "My self-restraint is tried every day I have to pretend to take notice in that oaf-brained Hagrid's lessons or whenever I smell Hermione Granger coming around a corridor hand in hand with that pathetic Muggle loving Weasley. It's all I can do to keep the sick from coming up out of my stomach. But I wonder, are we really planning to rid the school of these parasites, or are we just setting up for a little wand duel between two half-bloods who have no business being waited on by pureblood wizards?"

Lucius' hand shot out but it was deftly blocked by Draco's good arm. Father and son stared at each other for a moment with expressions of deepest loathing but then Draco forced his face to soften slightly.

"Think about it, father," he whispered urgently. "You've gone from being one of the most powerful wizards in a generation to the lackey of a Muggle-fathered has-been. Is that what you really want?"

"You - foolish - child," hissed Lucius, struggling to free his hand. "What do you think – "

"Good afternoon," cooed a low voice. "I'm so sorry to be interrupting such an – interesting little family conversation."

Both Lucius and Draco went completely white, and dropped their arms, their struggle immediately forgotten.

"Do you always sneak around like that?" spat Lucius, after a moment's pause.

"Usually," Snape replied nonchalantly. "It's very educational."

Lucius' eyes darted back and forth from Draco to Snape, rage and fear dancing over his features. He finally settled his gaze on Snape.

"If it's gold you're after, Snape, you can rest assured," he murmured in a breathy voice, his eyes now moving around the room restlessly to make sure none of the other Death Eaters had returned.

"You can relax yourself, Malfoy," replied Snape. "If it was gold I was after, I would now have wealth well beyond your most fanciful dreams. No, you forget, I am well accustomed to the self-righteous tantrums of adolescent children. I will forgive young Mr. Malfoy his indulgence this once."

Snape's eyes darted quickly to Draco who wanted to feel relieved at his close escape. But there was something in the acting headmaster's expression that caught him slightly off guard. There seemed almost a kind of quiet hunger underneath his usually stoic eyes. Snape suddenly seemed strangely different from the Potions Master who had taught him for the last five years. Of course, a lot had changed since Draco had discovered that far from having forsaken his time as a Death Eater, Snape was still the Dark Lord's most faithful servant and, as acting headmaster, the key to Voldemort's elaborate plans to take control of Hogwarts and rid the world of Potter and the mudbloods once and for all. Yet something still made Draco feel uneasy. He looked over at his father and was surprised to see that Lucius was also looking quizzically at Snape.

"I wonder sometimes, you know, Snape," Lucius said thoughtfully, "if the Dark Lord's trust in you is well placed."

Snape turned to Lucius. "Fortunately for us all, he does not have you to answer for."

Lucius' eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Fortunately for you, yes. I must confess you have my admiration," he said smoothly. "It must be difficult, so many years in this school, under the Muggle-loving leadership of Albus Dumbledore, surrounded by mudbloods."

Snape eyed Lucius in return. "It is not always easy, I can assure you that. I do, however, possess somewhat greater powers of self-control than, say, for instance, your son. Now if neither of you mind," he swiftly added, before Lucius could respond, "the Dark Lord has no intention of postponing his plans for this evening and he will be extremely displeased if things go awry again."

Draco and Lucius exchanged nervous glances despite themselves. There was no need for Snape to elaborate further. All of the Death Eaters were aware of the consequences of the Dark Lord's displeasure.

Without another word, Snape turned around and marched out of the room, his long black cloak trailing behind him.

* * *

It was not for the first time that Harry found himself considerably distracted en route to a tutorial with Professor Nevins. Nonetheless, it seemed a very long time ago indeed that he had been worried whether Ginny Weasley would confess her crush to him in front of the whole school. The revelation that Death Eaters were meeting in the basement of the castle that was supposedly the only place where he remained safe was disconcerting to say the least. And it had not made him feel one bit better that Dumbledore had quickly returned his owl once again thanking him for the information, but ensuring him that he had everything well under control. Harry had to admit that his disbelief at the continued laconic attitude of his former headmaster, even on hearing that an escaped convict was convening with his fellow Death Eaters in the dungeons of his own school, had taken him well past the point of continuing to fully trust him. Would Dumbledore merely urge Harry to remain calm and relaxed if Voldemort strode into the castle and threatened him with an Avada Kedavra curse? He no longer had the energy to continue maintaining his side in his now frequent discussions about the matters with Ron and Hermione, although he had not yet given voice to his fear that, despite several precautions he had taken (he hadn't used Hedwig this time and had added an invisible ink charm Hermione had found in a spell book that made the message readable only to the addressee), it might not have been Dumbledore at all who was sending him the replies.

But perhaps the most exasperating thing of all was that it still seemed there was little they could do in any case. No one seemed to know where Dumbledore was and Harry was damned if he was going to ask Snape. Hermione had suggested owling Professor Lupin but Harry was afraid that sending him an owl with any sensitive information (such as the whereabouts of Lucius Malfoy) might put his father's only living friend in danger. He, Ron, and Hermione had tried to return to the secret room the day after they had first visited only to find that the door from the pantry had been magically sealed and nothing any of them or any of the house elves had done had worked to open it. Malfoy gave them a wide berth whenever they met in the corridors and Harry doubted that the same curse would work again. It infuriated him to no end that Malfoy was obviously being told more by his Death Eater mentors than Dumbledore would tell him.

Harry tried his best to force his fear and resentment down as he approached the door to Nevins' office. One of the few courses of action he could reasonably take was to continue to hone his Defense Against the Dark Arts skills in case he was attacked. Yet once he turned his attention fully to his tutorial, other nagging questions, temporarily repressed, surge to the forefront of Harry's consciousness. What was it Nevins was hiding about his past? And what did it have to do with Harry's father? After a cowering Nevins had first told him to get out of his office several weeks before, Harry had wondered whether, as with his Occlumency fiasco with Snape the year before, he would ever be invited back for extra Defense lessons again. But Nevins' arrogant nonchalance had returned by the time of their next regular Defense class and he had quickly sought Harry out and confirmed with him the time of their next private meeting, mentioning absolutely nothing, however, about their previous session. They had met several more times privately since then. Nevins had set up a number of different obstacles both inside his office and outside on the field next to the Quidditch pitch. He had not, however, attempted to re-introduce any Boggarts into Harry's training.

It was also with a pang of disappointment that Harry realized that Professor Nevins no longer seemed interested in developing a relationship of close mentor and confidante with Harry. Whatever had happened that day when Harry had failed to stop the Boggart had taken care of that. He wouldn't have cared much what Nevins had thought of him a few weeks before, but with his increasing doubt of Dumbledore, Harry very much needed someone in whom he could confide, someone who knew more than just his friends, someone who could reassure him in a much more believable way than Dumbledore had done. But at the very time when he so needed that person, Nevins had chosen to withdraw himself.

It was at this point in his thoughts that Harry realized he had reached the door to Nevins' office. He knocked.

"Come in, Harry," said Nevins from the inside.

What if I wasn't Harry, Harry found himself thinking, but forced himself to brush this thought aside as one more resentment against the world, and walked in to find Professor Nevins sitting at his desk. He opened his mouth to say hello but stopped in surprise as Nevins put his finger to his lips. He pointed slowly to the ceiling.

Harry looked up and was surprised to see Peeves the Poltergeist dangling from the top of the light fixture above the room, his arms full of Dungbombs. On seeing Harry, Peeves broke into a cackling cry of disappointment.

"Oh, Professor, sir," Peeves whined. "Why couldn't you let Peeves have his little joke on wee Potter, sir. Peeves only wanted to throw a few Dungbombs at him, sir. Sir needn't have said anything."

"I'm very sorry, Peeves," said Nevins, throwing Harry a wink. "But I think Harry might have outsmarted you in any case."

"Sir does not think Peeves clever then?" Peeves looked back down at Nevins indignantly. "Sir would be wrong to think Peeves will forgive him for that. Peeves only listens to Dumbledore, sir. He does not think other teachers above his jokes."

"Is that so?" asked Nevins, raising his eyebrow.

In response, Peeves took hold of a Dungbomb and began to throw it at Nevins but the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was much faster. In a quick flash, he drew out his wand, aimed it Peeves, and shouted:

"Spiritem Exhume."

Peeves' eyes widened in surprise as the light from Nevins' wand enveloped him. He seemed to twinkle for a moment, and then light and ghost zoomed into the far corner of the room and out through a crack in the ceiling.

Nevins calmly pocketed his wand and turned to Harry.

"And now, Harry, I think you might have guessed the topic of today's lesson. We will be learning how to exorcise ghosts. You might be interested to know that right after I left Hogwarts I did a short stint in the Improper Use of Magic office, before I finally went on to university, and received a post here. I was in charge of getting rid of ghosts that had lingered in old Muggle houses. You'd be surprised how attached they become to these buildings, especially when no one has lived in them for a time. I even had to dress up as a Muggle priest so the owners wouldn't get suspicious."

Nevins said all of this very quickly, once or twice putting on a smile that Harry couldn't help but think seemed false and extremely out of character.

"So, er," Harry began, a little nervously. "It's – it's an important part of learning Defense Against the Dark Arts, this exorcism charm?"

"Oh, yes," replied Nevins, with what Harry thought sounded like a false tone of joviality. "It's no good trying to fight off several Death Eaters single-handedly with someone like Peeves having a go at you at the same time. You have to get rid of the ghost first."

And so for the remainder of the period, Harry practiced exorcism. Nevins used all manner of strange incantations to lure all kinds of ghosts, many of whom Harry was surprised to find he had never met in his five and a half years in the castle, and most of whom seemed decidedly unsavory. The curse didn't seem particularly complex to Harry and as far as he was concerned, he had pretty well mastered it after the first three or four exorcisms, but Nevins insisted on summoning enough ghosts to take up the whole period. The Defense Against the Dark Arts master seemed to delight in finding ways to attract the ghosts, allow them to taunt him, and then leave Harry to exorcise them from the office. Nevins' dry wit was in full form in his responses to the taunting spirits and after some time, both he and Harry found it difficult to maintain a completely straight face. Yet Harry still couldn't help but feel more uneasy than relieved. There was an almost manic hysteria to both Nevins' laughter and his own.

Harry found himself grateful when the lesson finally came to an end with the banishment of the ghost of a hag who tried to tempt unsuspecting students with fungus-covered sweets. This was apparently in revenge for two girls who had been mean to her in Hogsmeade almost two hundred years ago and whom she had followed back to the school only to be accidentally killed when a portcullis that used to hang above the main gate of the school had slammed down a little too hard on her head. Harry gathered up his bags and turned to leave, giving what he hoped was a convincing display of cheer to Nevins. He was halfway to the door and already wondering what Hermione and Ron were going to think when he told them about Nevins' strange behavior, when the Defense teacher spoke again, almost inaudibly and without a trace of the joviality or wit that had colored his manner only moments before:

"The Boggart was your father this time. It could just as easily have been your mother, I suppose."

Harry froze. He wanted to turn around and look at Nevins but his feet seemed to have turned to soft clay. He found himself perfectly sure that if he tried to move them, he would dissolve to the floor. Eventually, he managed to turn just his head and noticed that Nevins' face was suddenly colorless. He was staring at a point on the wall just past Harry. Every now and then in the few painful silent moments that followed, his eyes would dart furtively at the Boy Who Lived, but then settle back to the wall, to the ground, to anywhere else but at Harry's eyes.

"Sit down, Harry," he finally croaked, gesturing weakly to the chair in front of his desk.

Harry tried to say something again but all he could manage was a weak nod. He staggered to the chair and immediately collapsed down into it. He felt something shift very uncomfortably in his abdomen.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you that day, Harry," Nevins managed in a hoarse whisper. "You didn't deserve it. It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine."

"Perhaps you should drink a glass of water, sir," Harry found himself saying. "You look – "

"You deserve an explanation, Harry," Nevins pressed on, as if Harry had said nothing. "About myself, your parents, and the night they were killed."

Every hair on Harry's body stood up straight as though he had received an electric shock. He stared dumbly at Nevins for a moment, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. Was Professor Nevins telling him that he had been involved in his parents' death? How was that possible? What had he done? Whatever it was, Harry was fairly sure from Nevins' behavior that it was not something good. Was his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, with whom Harry had spent months in private meetings, improving his training, in whom Harry had wished to find a mentor and a friend earlier that afternoon, no better than Wormtail, who had betrayed his parents to the Dark Lord? Was he about to tell Harry that he was a Death Eater? Harry's mind spun far ahead of his reason as he thought of how he would escape from Nevins' office on the news. Just as an irrational plan was crystallizing in his mind, Nevins drew a deep breath, cleared his throat, and spoke again in a rush as though afraid that if he stopped in mid-stream he would never be able to finish.

"As I told you before, Harry, I was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher when your mother and father were students at Hogwarts. I left that position because I thought I could make more of a difference as an auror. I was very wrong." Nevins choked on his words, but swallowed and forced himself to go on. "I also knew your parents very well after they left Hogwarts. They fought bravely, just like yourself, against the Death Eaters and, and… He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named. Although they were not aurors themselves, they provided us with a great deal of valuable intelligence. As I told you before, Harry, I have never been very brave but I was very good at intelligence and planning and so I worked closely with both your mother and father. Soon after you were born, it was clear that they – and you – were in a great deal of danger.

"Appointing a secret keeper was your father's own doing," Nevins went on. "As I think you know. But it was my responsibility to keep track of the comings and goings of You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters and direct the aurors in the field to investigate any suspicious activity. On the night your parents were killed…." Nevins swallowed again. "On the night your parents were killed, I had received what at the time I believed to be reliable information that the Death Eaters were planning to strike against the family of an important ministry wizard who had spoken out very vocally against them. All but a few aurors were dispatched to intercept the Death Eaters and those that remained were occupied elsewhere. There were very few people willing to stand up to You-Know-Who, then, Harry, and our resources were stretched. I believed that you and your parents were safe. I was wrong. Then - "

"You couldn't have known," Harry suddenly blurted out. "You – "

"Let me finish, please, Harry," said Nevins, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Let me say what I have to say before you absolve me of my sins. As I said, I did not know that you and your parents were in danger – at first."

Harry felt a cold, prickling sensation run down the side of his face. He had the sudden urge to get up and run out of the room. He definitely did not think he wanted to hear what was coming next.

"It was late that night when You-Know-Who moved in on Godric Hollow. I was alone in auror headquarters. There was a problem that I wanted to solve, a plan I had to think through fully before all of the details ran out of my head. I was surprised when a head appeared in the fireplace in my office. It was a neighbor of your parents – of yours. A – and a good friend of your mother's. I remember – I…."

Nevins stopped talking. His eyes were suddenly dream like as if he was trying to recall a happier memory, one that would steer him away from the harsh truth he was about to deliver, but then he forced himself back to his narrative.

"Anyway, he was breathless. I knew right away something was very wrong. And I knew before he spoke that it had something to do with your parents. I knew that I had been very, very wrong. But still I listened as he told me how You-Know-Who had walked with his Death Eaters past his house, like a sick parade, how they had met with a gang of Muggles that had taunted them about their dress, not knowing…. Of course, the Death Eaters killed them all, before walking on, continuing still to Godric Hollow. The neighbor hid in fear but as soon as the Death Eaters had gone, he called me through the floo network and told me what was happening. He was a Squib, you see. There was nothing he could do. But I – I – could have done something. I could have apparated from my office right then and there. I could have warned your parents. I could have used the same skills I had taught them and I have taught you to stop them. But – but I didn't. I couldn't. Instead, I called in the field aurors. I formed a plan. And when the Death Eaters fled Godric Hollow, many of them were ambushed. My belated plan worked perfectly. I was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class. But believe me, Harry, I wish I could take it back. I tried to tell myself for years that I tried my best, that the aurors I dispatched were just a little too late to save your parents but it wasn't true. I could have gotten there myself in time but I didn't try. I was afraid. I wasn't like your parents; I wasn't like you. I was a coward. I should have known that the day the sorting hat didn't put me into Gryffindor. But I didn't know – I didn't realize until it was too late."

It took Harry a moment to realize that Nevins had stopped talking, that he had finished his explanation, and that he was looking at Harry, his eyes wide, like a school child facing his headmaster, every inch of authority lost to him.

A storm of contradictory emotions swirled in Harry's head like the clash of dangerous currents in the sea. Pity for Nevins, for the burden he had shouldered for so long; sadness at the losses Nevins' story had once again reminded him; guilt, again, for the way Nevins' story had made him think of his own failings in Sirius' death; but then at last anger, anger at first tinged with regret that he could not somehow forgive Nevins after he had all but promised to do, but then a much stronger anger, anger at the life that was taken away from him, anger that the very person in whom he was beginning to trust, the person who had forced him to overcome his own fears, had been so incapable of conquering his own when it had really counted. It could have been you, a voice in his head tried to tell him. What if you'd had to tell Ron that his sister had died because you had been too frightened to go into the Chamber of Secrets and save her? But you didn't, the voice responded. Ginny is still alive because of you. You would have saved any of your friends even if you had died doing so. But Nevins couldn't. He had cared too much about himself.

Harry suddenly conjured the image of Nevins standing on the ground, his arms folded smugly, as he had used Harry's fear to force him to find a way to stop his fall the day they had first practiced the Levitatus charm. He wondered how Nevins could have stomached the hypocrisy. He suddenly felt sick. Until a few moments ago, he had wondered how he would find some words of comfort, even forgiveness, for his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher but now he found he could do nothing of the sort. He realized that his hands were shaking as he stood up. He took one last look at Nevins, then turned around and walked out of his office without another word.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Snape sat back at the clearing in the Forbidden Forest stirring a new potion, very much like the one that he and Dumbledore had tended to the night of the Guy Fawkes' Ball several months before, in very much the same spot. He showed almost no reaction when he heard a faint popping noise like the cork of a champagne bottle. Snape knew that there were only two wizards with the magical skill to apparate as noiselessly and he knew that, at that moment, neither would have reacted much differently than the other to the potion he was seeming to brew.

"I believe there has been no lasting damage," said Dumbledore.

Snape gave him a brief nod, still concentrating on the potion.

"Potter?" he asked.

"He has his suspicions, naturally."

Snape smiled to himself as if enjoying a private joke. "We will proceed with our arrangements as originally planned then, headmaster?" he said.

"I see no reason to change them," Dumbledore replied and for the first time since he had arrived, Snape looked up and the two wizards exchanged knowing nods.

Then there was another faint popping sound as Dumbledore disapparated from the clearing.

Snape continued to methodically stir the potion by himself.

* * *

With a gurgled hiss that would have frightened and sickened any passers-by, Voldemort let Nagini's venom run down his hand and into the simmering cauldron below. After he was finished, Voldemort freed the snake and let it slither angrily around his ankles unafraid. Then, his fingers still stained with venom, the Dark Lord reached into the folds of his robes and drew out the worn diary, its faded gold lettering now invisible in the dark night of the Forbidden Forest. Voldemort placed the diary very gingerly on a short stand which lay on top of the cauldron below him. He felt the volume vibrate in his fingers as he did so.

He knew that the Death Eaters were in place this time at the school and that Snape was taking care of Dumbledore's attempt at a counter curse. Of course, he would still have to be cautious. It would take much of his energy to make sure that Potter was preoccupied. But he had succeeded before and he would time. He could feel it. There was only one last stage of the potion to complete.

Voldemort reached into the folds of his robes one more time and took out his wand, the wand his most faithful servant had given him. He pointed it at the center of the boiling cocktail in the cauldron and cried out:

"Synchronis Totalis!"

Voldemort felt a sucking sensation. It seemed as if he was being pulled, wand first, straight into the center of the diary. The outside world vanished around him in a rush of blackness. Soon, very soon, his mind would be in a very different place.

And then he would wait.

* * *

Late that night, after all of the other Gryffindors had gone to bed, Ginny, Amanda, and Colin stared blankly at the potion they had set up on a table in the center of the common room. The next morning was the last of their first set of O. – and the worst – Potions.

Secret rooms, scary crystals, and impossible career-threatening exams. This had certainly not been the easiest week of Ginny's life. And to think that just a few weeks ago she had been worried about whether Harry Potter would pay attention to her.

Ginny didn't like to say anything but she was fairly sure the mixture was supposed to spontaneously boil. It had been nearly a half an hour and it had done no such thing. Amanda stirred it despondently to reveal that far from mixing, the separate ingredients had now congealed into discrete globs like large mutually-repelling amoebas.

"I told you we should have added the wormwood earlier," declared Colin. "It says so right here in the book. I don't know why you two didn't listen to me!"

"Ginny," said Amanda, her teeth clenched together. "Please explain to me why I shouldn't hit him over the head with this cauldron."

"Um," said Ginny quickly, looking anxiously back and forth between Colin and Amanda. "It wouldn't accomplish anything."

"Oh yes it would."

"Well." Ginny tried to think again. "His screams might wake everyone up and he isn't worth it."

Amanda smiled.

"Look." Colin put his hands angrily to his hips. "If you don't want my help, fine! I don't know why I'm bothering to study with you two, anyway! I obviously know much more about this than you! I'm going to bed!"

And with that, Colin was off up the boys' stairs.

Ginny looked after him for a moment then turned back to Amanda who was going very red.

"Ginny," she said. "I swear if we ever have to study with him again, I will hurt him."

"Stay angry," suggested Ginny, taking hold of her roommate's shoulders. "It will help keep you awake."

Amanda sighed. "What are we going to do about this potion?"

"I know you don't want to hear this, Amanda, but maybe Colin was right. I think we will have to start over again."

Ginny took out her wand and was about to clear the potion when she looked down more closely and saw to her astonishment that the globs were all turning into smiley faces. Each of the faces opened up and said quite brightly.

"Hello, Virginia! I must say, it's well past your bed time!"

Ginny felt someone grab hold of her wrist and looked up to see Amanda looking very concerned.

"Ginny, you were putting your head very close to that potion. I don't think falling in would be such a good idea."

Ginny rubbed her eyes. "I was falling asleep," she said. "Amanda, I don't know if I can keep going. There's no way I'm going to pass Potions. What with Snape and now Dibble, it's just not possible. I don't want to give up but – "

"And you're not going to," said Amanda decisively. "Look, maybe we should go on another bakery run."

Ginny shook her head. "Not after what happened last time."

"We're going to get through this, Ginny," said Amanda. "We're going to do this potion ourselves and we're going to get it right – tonight."

Ginny nodded wearily. "I – I'll just go to the bathroom and put some water on my face. Maybe that will wake me up."

* * *

Harry was not sure what had woken him up. He knew that he had been asleep some time. He looked out of the window to see if it was light yet but the night sky remained pitch black. He had gone to bed early, he remembered. Quidditch practice again. What with the final with Ravenclaw coming up, he had to be relentless. But he had insisted that the fifth years wouldn't have to practice with them in their O.W.L. week – over their own protests – he remembered Ginny had been particularly livid but he hadn't found himself terribly surprised when she had finally acquiesced.

Harry had just about remembered all of those things when sleep took hold of his fatigued body once more.

And this time he dreamed.

In this dream, Harry was no longer in his room but outside on the Hogwarts grounds. The bright full moon was three-quarters of the way through its trip on this still chilly early spring night. But strangely Harry did not feel cold at all as he walked alongside the lake. He felt a stillness and calm envelop his heart that he had not felt for ages, indeed perhaps never at all in his life.

But almost immediately that this feeling of calm started to take hold of Harry, he seemed to find a way to snap out of it. His eyes began to dart around the lake, certain that it was too quiet, certain that something or someone was waiting for him, and that that something or someone did not have his welfare in mind. He watched the woods ahead carefully. Something seemed to ripple and stir there and then suddenly the whole night's sky seemed to blur as if –

And then just as suddenly, it was whole again. Harry felt a tiny hand in his. It felt very warm. Harry looked across and was surprised to see Victoria standing next to him, her hair still braided in two bright blonde pigtails, her bright blue eyes and rosy cheeked face now smiling back at him.

He couldn't remember the last time he had thought about Victoria but here she was, just as he had always remembered her. His first childhood crush. And they were alone now. Away from that awful Muggle school. Here at Hogwarts. Maybe she was really a witch, too. Maybe they could finally be together. Victoria smiled more broadly as if sensing his thoughts and then squeezed his hand tightly and began skipping along beside him. Harry began to feel that tremendous sense of calm surround him again.

But no, Harry thought to himself again. This couldn't be right. Victoria hadn't liked him at all. He'd told her about his crush and then she'd just laughed in his face and gone right out and told Dudley and his gang. They hadn't liked it at all, of course, and then Dudley's friend Piers –

Harry looked properly at Victoria only to realize it wasn't her at all. The light must have been playing tricks on him. It was Cho. Harry immediately started to feel calm again. How could he have ever been mistaken? How could he have been thinking of a silly childhood crush when a beautiful woman was walking beside him. She was wearing the same beautiful yellow dress she had donned the night of the ball with Cedric but this time, she was walking alone with Harry. Cedric was gone, wasn't he, and Cho was all his?

But that wasn't right, surely? He shouldn't be pleased that Cedric was gone, should he? He was dead and Harry was partially responsible for that death, wasn't he? And Cho really hadn't taken it very well, had she? Harry suddenly felt repulsed at holding her hand. He snatched it away, refusing to be tricked by the look of false hurt that suddenly came over her face.

But no. Harry's companion waited patiently as he took his glasses off and inspected them suspiciously before putting them back on his face. Now the smile and the freckles were back again. But it was not Victoria at all. It was Ginny. She smiled and winked at him, the light of the moon shining down off her beautiful long red hair. She let out a delightful giggle as Harry reached up and ran his hands through it. Somewhere something told him that this wasn't really right, that he shouldn't be thinking this way about Ginny, but this time, it was not enough to break him out of his inner peace and the two walked together hand in hand around the lake quite happily.

But then the moon dropped behind a cloud and Harry instantly felt anxious again. It was very dark; who knew what might be lurking out there with them. He gave Ginny's hand a squeeze and felt her reciprocate but somehow it still was not enough. Something wasn't right. Someone was after Ginny and Harry had to protect her. He looked out at the lake. Something was definitely moving. At first he tried to reassure himself that it was just the giant squid but then another thought took over: what if it was the Basilisk come back to life? Was he really sure that he'd killed it? What if there had been another? What if it was going to return to finish its work now?

Harry clutched onto Ginny's hand more tightly. He knew he had to take her back to the castle as quickly as possible but they were already on the far side of the lake. Harry watched the water on the surface of the lake carefully: at first, it seemed to ripple faster but then it started to dissolve altogether as if it was only a mirage. He looked all around him and saw that the night sky was doing the same thing. He tried to turn back to Ginny but she wasn't there anymore. He tried to call out her name but no sound seemed to come out of his mouth. He finally started to run but he wasn't sure where he was running to. The world seemed to be falling away all around him like paint peeling from an old house.

And then where before there had been blackness, suddenly all he could see was white. But it wasn't a pure white; it was like a dirty off-color white and it was blocked off in tiles. In front of the tiles were rows of wooden cubicles. Stalls, Harry decided. This was a bathroom.

He looked straight down in front of him and saw a sink. But where was he? Where he stood, there should have been a mirror. It was as if he was standing behind it looking out. But how could that be?

A sound caught Harry's attention. There was a door opening. The door to the bathroom. A sense of relief flooded over Harry as he saw Ginny walk in. She looked very pale and tired. She immediately opened the taps on the sink and washed her weary face with water.

"Ginny!" Harry called out. "Ginny! It's all right, I'm over here."

Ginny looked up at the mirror but far from seeming pleased, a horrible expression of fear and shock was suddenly drawn on her face. She staggered backwards and screamed.

"Ginny!" said Harry again, more urgently. "Ginny, what's the matter? It's me!"

But Ginny kept staring at the mirror and screaming. Harry had never seen her look so terrified. He wanted to do anything in his power to make her stop looking at him like that.

And then suddenly he didn't. Suddenly, a sickening pleasure seemed to grow like a cancer from somewhere within Harry's mind, a pleasure that seemed to feed on Ginny's fear every bit as much as Harry loathed it. He tried to make the feeling go away but it only seemed to grow stronger.

And then Harry felt his mouth opening, only it wasn't his own mouth at all. He felt a sudden horrible rush of glee as Tom Riddle's voice spoke from somewhere deep inside him.

"Hello, Ginny," it said. "I thought I would dispense with the dueling this time. After all, we have a great deal to discuss, you and I."


	18. Secrets And Lies

Chapter 18

Secrets And Lies

Harry watched, horrified, as Ginny started screaming again. He tried to cry out with his own voice but it seemed he had been denied the possibility of sound.

"Surely you remember the duels, Ginny?" Riddle's voice hissed from out of Harry's own mouth again. "You remember them in your waking moments. Haven't you been taught anything about controlling your dreams? I suppose I should have expected no better from a family of Muggle lovers."

Harry fought hard to stem the words that seemed to force their way up to his throat like bile rising from his stomach. A hunger and even excitement seemed to start from his scar and fill his whole mind. He found himself beginning to panic as the thrill seemed to consume all of his pity and angst for Ginny like a flood in his mind until Harry found himself certain that there would soon be none of his feelings and none of his own self left.

Ginny didn't respond. She continued to stare.

"We used to be such good friends, you and I," Tom's voice poured out from Harry's soul again. "You used to tell me I was the best friend you'd ever had. Perhaps we could have been friends much longer if it weren't for Harry."

A mocking voice rang like a bell through Harry's mind. The Boy Who Lived was weak and disgusting. He would be killed soon enough, though Riddle longed for it to come sooner. It tested every grain of his patience to wait, yet wait he would. He would use this girl, this sniveling pathetic girl, against him. He would -

"Harry saved my life!" spat Ginny suddenly.

Harry felt the surprise rush through him, as sudden and fleeting as the sting from the branch of a tree in his face. He sensed Riddle's excitement ebb, replaced by first disappointment and then a great anger and loathing. Harry could feel the hate pulling and sucking him into itself like a pensieve but it was in that moment of contradiction that Harry seized on the sudden fury in Ginny's own eyes and remembered. He was the Boy Who Lived and Lord Voldemort wanted to swallow him up and control him. But Harry would not let him. Voldemort would be beaten; he had to be.

Harry forced himself to concentrate as Snape had told him to in their abortive lessons the year before. He tried to block the Dark Lord out of his mind. Yet it still seemed that the harder Harry tried, the more he found himself overwhelmed with Voldemort's hatred for Ginny. Forcing down yet another wave of panic, Harry thought back instead to the Imperius curse under which Voldemort had held him the night he had returned. If he could just resist him; if he could find the effort; yes, that was it; he was under the Dark Lord's control and he had to break out. His feelings and words weren't Harry's at all; they were –

The white of the bathroom vanished again and Harry found himself looking up again at the inky black of the clear night's sky and the twinkling points of the heavens. He looked down quickly, panting, and to his immense relief, he found Ginny standing beside him again, a frown on her face.

"Harry," she said. "Are you all right? You look frightened."

Harry looked down at her. He felt about to tell her all he had seen but before he could open his mouth to speak, she squeezed his hand and smiled at him, and all his train of thought seemed to vanish. Indeed, as a sensation of calm seemed to envelop his mind and once again, Harry wondered what on earth could have ever vexed him in the first place.

* * *

Ginny watched, emboldened, as Tom Riddle's face twisted in the mirror as though he was fighting some great internal battle even as he tried and failed to manipulate her. But then his jaw hardened again and a wide sneer pasted itself across his face.

"I suppose that's what Harry told you, wasn't it?" he replied.

"It was true, I was there. I woke up, I remember!" Ginny forced down her fear and felt her defiance grow.

"Have it your way," said Riddle, almost nonchalantly now. "It must make Harry feel very powerful, holding this wizard debt over you so many years."

"He didn't want it!"

"Then why, Ginny, did he try to save your life, since you're so sure that's what he was doing?"

"Y – you wouldn't understand."

"That's what I like to hear, Ginny, a little hesitation." Riddle's lip curled up in a snarl again. "But my time is precious and I have little to waste indulging your stupid curiosities. I need you to help me."

"I'll never help you."

Riddle's lips curled into a thin line. "You're making me disappointed, Ginny."

"So what?" Ginny replied, but she suddenly felt herself start to tremble.

Riddle pushed his head even closer to his side of the mirror so that Ginny was sure for a moment he would rush out and grab his hands around her throat. She wanted to step back herself but found that she still couldn't move. Her heart began to beat very fast.

And then Tom Riddle said very softly:

"Think about it, Ginny. The fear. The nightmares. You could end them all. You never have to be afraid of me again. All I ask is that you help me with one small thing. You see, Ginny, we have a very powerful bond, you and I. I know you: where you go, what you are thinking. But I can't really be with you myself, much as I'd like it. I can't always tell the difference between what's in your mind and what's really there. Your feelings for Harry are very strong; they're very real to you. But I know you know the difference. I just need you to give me a small sign, to tell me, in your mind, whether Harry is with you or not."

Ginny didn't respond. She looked at Tom closely. It did seem very simple. And all of her fears could end. She wouldn't have to fight Tom Riddle after all. She wouldn't have to try to be strong and resist him. And she wouldn't need Harry to protect her. She could just give in. All she had to do was be a good girl and do as she was told, just like when she had strangled the roosters and called for the Basilisk. All she would have to do was to tell him about Harry and -

"You liar!" she spat suddenly. "You want to kill Harry!"

Tom Riddle moved his head away slightly, as if he had been slapped across the face. He suddenly looked very hurt.

"Poor Ginny," he said after a moment. "Is that what they've told you? I only want to help Harry – and you – to realize what you truly are."

"And why do you care so much about me?"

"Didn't I tell you, Ginny?" replied Riddle. "We're close friends, you and I. I want to be close to Harry, too, only he won't let me. Don't you think you can help me just a little now," he asked very sweetly, "after all I've done for you?"

"No," said Ginny, trying desperately to see through the affronted expression on Riddle's face. "You're not telling me everything. You're afraid of me."

Riddle's hurt expression was replaced with a sneer. "And why would I be afraid of a stupid little girl who walks around in day dreams all day long?"

"I don't know," Ginny replied. "But I know you are. You can see me? I can see you now, too. You've made a mistake. There's something you hadn't planned. You need me to help you but you're also afraid of me. I don't know why but you are."

For the first time that Ginny could ever remember, Tom Riddle seemed at a loss for words. His eyes darted back and forth as if he was looking to escape. But this only lasted for a moment. Then his jaw set again and his cheeks turned red in fury.

"I tried to be nice to you, Ginny, but four years and you're still an ungrateful little brat! If you don't help me, I might just have to tell Harry our little secret."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But Ginny felt herself start to shake very hard.

Tom Riddle smiled a horribly false smile. "You forget, Ginny. I know everything about you now. I know what you told Harry after you woke up in the Chamber. You said the last thing you remembered was seeing me come out of the diary. But we both know that isn't true, don't we, or maybe you really don't remember?"

Ginny didn't reply again. It seemed much harder to breathe now.

"You're very much afraid now, aren't you, Ginny?" Riddle smiled. "How well I remember just what your fear smelled like."

* * *

Harry continued to hold Ginny's hand as he walked her around the lake. They were nearing the castle now. A few more steps and they would be inside again, warm and safe. Harry wondered what it was he had been worried about so much. Without realizing he wanted to do so, he reached up and ran his fingers through Ginny's hair. She did not resist. Harry suddenly felt that she wouldn't resist anything he asked her to do. Why should she? After all, he had saved her life. Wasn't she in his debt? And why had he never tried to collect on that debt? What a pathetic fool he'd been all these years. He'd just ignored Ginny when she would have done anything he'd asked of her. In her, he could have an ally – even a slave. Why would a Slytherin –

No sooner had Harry felt revulsion at the alien emotions twisting through his head when the shadow of the castle before him receded to the white of the bathroom once again. A brief disorientation gave way to a renewed sense of glee and a hideous epiphany that he had found exactly the thing that could make Ginny serve him again.

But this delight then faded to a schizophrenic mix of relief and distaste. Ginny, her cheeks flushed red and her breath coming fast had reached down and taken hold of a chair in her hands. At first, at seemed that she wouldn't be able to lift it but once she had done so, she quickly positioned it over her head. Gritting her teeth in obvious desperation, she brought the chair crashing down to what seemed to Harry like the top of his head.

Harry flinched even as Riddle's jeering voice cried out again from inside him.

"You want me to go, Ginny? How sad. But you must know I'll never really leave you."

Harry looked back at Ginny again and saw that she had now suspended the chair directly in front of him but to his consternation and Riddle's delight it seemed that she could move it any further forward.

"Never," the voice inside Harry said again, a cruel laugh escaping unbidden from his lips.

Ginny drew the chair back again and flung it even harder at whatever was in front of her but it still did not make contact.

Harry felt himself laugh again but even as Riddle's new-found joy threatened to envelop him again, he found himself hoping that Ginny could crack the chair home, that as hard as it might hurt him, maybe this vision would all go away. Maybe then he would finally

Wake up.

Harry's eyes snapped open, his heart drumming loudly in his chest. He was drenched from head to toe in sweat and his head felt like it had been split in two.

Yet apparently he had made no sound. There was an odd silence, broken only by Ron's rhythmic snoring. He felt himself start to relax. He had had a nightmare. Voldemort's voice had been in his mind again. Harry felt a tremendous relief come over him as he felt himself whole again. It was as though the sweat on his sheets contained all of the poison of Voldemort's sadistic manipulations, flushed out of his mind and his body. If only he could stop his scar from hurting now –

But no!

Harry sat bolt upright in bed as a new revelation drove away the final remains of his sleep-confused mind.

It had not been a dream at all. It had been just like the time he had seen Mr. Weasley attacked and Sirius held prisoner by Voldemort. Whether what he had seen was real or another deceit of the Dark Lord, he couldn't be sure, but it wasn't just in his own head, Harry knew it.

And while Sirius and Mr. Weasley were attacked far away, Ginny was somewhere close, wasn't she? The white-walled room in his dreams. The bathroom. A bathroom like –

Harry got to his feet quickly. He picked up the robes he had left piled in a heap next to his bed and felt in his pocket to make sure that he still had his wand. He briefly thought of waking up his roommates but then he knew that his explanations would cost far too much precious time and he did not need their help to act on this occasion. He strode quickly to the door of his dormitory and flung it open. He ran quickly down the stairs to the common room, making his way for the girls' bathroom where he knew that Ginny was standing at this very moment, confronted by Voldemort in Tom Riddle's form.

He had almost reached the door and turned the handle when his mind finally registered the most unexpected scene he had just passed.

Ginny's roommate Amanda was standing over a boiling cauldron. Slumped on the chair at the table in front of her was Ginny.

Amanda looked up at Harry incredulously.

"You're not sleepwalking, are you, Harry? The boys' toilet's on the other side."

In response, Harry tore over to Ginny's side.

"What happened to her?" he demanded of Amanda.

Amanda looked back at Harry as if he was mad.

"She's asleep," she replied simply. "She's exhausted. She said she was going to the bathroom but then she decided to sit down in that chair and the next I knew I could hear her snoring. I thought I would finish our potion and then – "

"She's not!" Harry cried back suddenly. "You don't understand! She's in trouble. I saw it!"

Amanda shrugged. "Have it your way."

Harry knelt next to Ginny and examined her closely. Snoring might have been a harsh way of putting it but Ginny's mouth was open and her breath was moving slowly in and out as though she was asleep. Harry started to feel slightly foolish. Perhaps it had all just been a nightmare after all. He should have known to be more careful after what had happened to Sirius, he thought, a familiar feeling of disgust at his own arrogance welling inside him.

Harry had all but decided to return to his dormitory when he saw Ginny's brow crease and face flinch uncomfortably. He looked up and saw that her hands were clenching and unclenching over the sides of the chair just as if –

"Oh, goddess," he murmured aloud. "She's dreaming it."

Harry quickly grabbed hold of Ginny only to find that her hair was saturated in perspiration.

"Ginny!" he whispered desperately into her ear. "Ginny, wake up!"

"What are you doing, Harry?" demanded Amanda. "Let her – "

"Ginny, for Merlin's sake, wake up! Wake up!"

Ginny continued to hold onto the sides of chair. She started to rock it back and forth more urgently.

Before Amanda could protest again, Harry had grabbed hold of Ginny's shoulders and started to shake her.

"Wake up!"

"No," Ginny moaned. "Don't – leave – get away."

Ginny's eyes snapped wide open. She turned to look at Harry and gasped.

"Harry?" she asked, a tone of amazement in her voice. "Harry?"

"Ginny," Harry said urgently, kneeling beside her. "Are you all right?"

"Harry," she said again. "Oh, Harry."

Harry felt a sudden wave of claustrophobia rush over him as Ginny grabbed him unexpectedly into a vice-like grip. Within moments, her body was racked with sobs. His face became very hot as he had the sudden irrational sensation of dozens of Gryffindor eyes boring into his back even though the only other person in the room was Amanda. He tried to release his grip on Ginny but she held on even more tightly.

"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry heard Amanda ask. "What happened?"

"Please please please don't let go of me," Ginny whispered into his ear.

For one moment, Harry was sure he had not really heard Ginny say this. The next he felt as if the world had closed in all around him. His heart beating very fast, Harry forced himself out of the embrace. Before Ginny could respond, however, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, looked into her scared brown eyes, and said with all of the authority he could muster:

"Ginny, we have to go to see Professor McGonagall right now."

Ginny just looked at Harry for a moment, tears still running down her cheeks. Then she nodded.

* * *

Voldemort pushed his face back from the cauldron and sat back hard on the ground, panting. The girl was becoming much more powerful now: he had always been able to control others but there were moments when it had seemed she had been controlling him. He knew he had come very close to losing himself completely through the diary. He had no longer been peering into someone else's life. He had fully believed that he was his own destroyed memory just as surely as the memory had believed it was him.

And he had not been able to keep Potter completely out. He, too, was growing more persistent, more skilled at breaking free from his control. He might try to go after the girl as he had his precious godfather. She might tell him her nightmares and they both might tell others.

But after these fears had subsided, the Dark Lord afforded himself a smile. He had survived after all, hadn't he? And so what if the girl knew there was a flaw in his arrangements? She didn't know what it was, after all. And even if she and Potter told Dumbledore and the rest of the school, none of them would know what to make of it, not until it was too late, that was. And the girl would tell herself the Dark Lord had failed. She would think she had resisted him. She would think she would never tell him where Harry was. She would never suspect that he could use her own emotions against her, that her own love for Harry and fear that Voldemort would find him would drive Harry right into his hands.

She had fallen straight into his trap.

* * *

Harry led Ginny briskly down the corridors to McGonagall's office. Neither had said a word since they had left the Gryffindor common room. They couldn't go on like this, thought Harry. He had to find out what had happened to Ginny before they reached McGonagall's office. He already felt horribly guilty about pushing Ginny away from him. He didn't want her to suffer and he had a feeling she had suffered a great deal that night. He thought of making some gesture of friendship, touching her shoulder or even holding her hand, just this once, but whenever he'd thought he'd made up his mind to do either of those things, a horrible icy sensation seemed to grow in his stomach again.

They were almost at the door to McGonagall's chamber when Ginny said:

"Harry."

Harry turned around quickly to look at her. She looked very frightened.

"I – I'm sorry I held on so tightly like that. I was – "

"It doesn't matter," said Harry quickly. "Ginny, please tell me what happened to you."

Ginny looked away and didn't say anything for a moment. Then she stopped walking. Harry stopped, too, and turned to face her. Ginny looked down at the floor, the torturous storm in her eyes hidden for a moment for his view. Then she looked up again:

"Harry, I'm not sure but I think that Tom Riddle, I think that Vol – Vol – that You-Know-Who might be trying to possess me again."

Harry instinctively took a step away from Ginny.

"But – but how? That diary – it was destroyed. I destroyed it."

Ginny looked at Harry. It was the first time he had ever talked to her about anything that had happened down in the Chamber. And she could see from the expression on his face that he knew it, too.

"I don't know," she said. "But I think it must be possible."

She started to walk again. Harry followed her.

"Ever – ever since this summer, I've been having these nightmares. It – it's the same every time. At least it was – until tonight." Ginny took a deep breath and told Harry about her dreams of the dueling between Tom Riddle and himself, looking steadily down at the stone floor of the hallways as she did so. Then she told him about the nightmare she'd had that night, omitting any parts about her crush on Harry, and several other things Tom had said which she found she could hardly bring herself to recall, let alone tell Harry.

"And then there were the headaches when I went to Hogsmeade, under the gate and in the shop – I just – I just – I don't know, Harry. I'm really scared."

"And you didn't tell anyone?" said Harry.

"Well, I thought they were just nightmares. I mean, after all, I've been dreaming about the Chamber for years now." Ginny avoided looking at Harry again as she said this. "But after tonight, I'm just not sure anymore. The nightmares just aren't like normal dreams. They're so real."

Ginny shuddered. In her dream, everything had seemed so cloudy but now she remembered all of her nightmares as clear as day, just as she always did when she woke up. Maybe he wanted it that way. She grew angry as she realized how skillfully he had manipulated her, just like his younger self, the one moment filling her with guilt, the next fear. Just like he had when he'd forced her to watch him killing Harry over and over again in their duels.

The duels, thought Ginny to herself suddenly. Why had he made her watch all of those duels? Did he just want to weaken her? Ginny knew that Voldemort was afraid of her somehow; she could sense it. But she didn't know why. Yet something told her it had to do with all of those duels. Ginny had the sudden impression that she had all of the pieces of a puzzle but she didn't know how to put them together.

"I know," Harry suddenly broke into her thoughts. "That's why we have to see McGonagall."

"But what made you think of going to see McGonagall?" Ginny frowned suddenly as if the question had just occurred to her.

"Well, I didn't think you'd want to tell it to Snape," said Harry, trying to sound casual.

"Yes, but why… how did you know it wasn't just a nightmare? Harry, why did come downstairs?"

"I – I heard you. I thought – "

But Ginny had suddenly stopped walking and had turned to face him.

"No one else heard me."

It was now Harry's turn to avoid looking at Ginny.

"Harry, look at me."

It was not a request.

Harry forced his face up to Ginny's and immediately wanted to look down at the ground again. He suddenly remembered the way he had looked into her eyes that day they had played Quidditch. It was as though Ginny's gaze could burn all his defenses away.

There was a long meaningful pause before Ginny let out a small gasp and said:

"Y – you were there, weren't you. Oh, goddess, you were there in my mind. You saw him just like you did when Dad was attacked. Just like…."

Ginny's voice trailed off.

"Just like I did when Sirius died," Harry finished darkly. When he turned his face up to look at Ginny again, it was with a horrible look of foreboding that she could never remember seeing before.

"I was him, Ginny," he said in a whisper. "I could see everything he did, feel everything he felt. I was happy when you screamed. I wanted you to fear me."

Ginny looked at him for a long time before becoming aware that her mouth was hanging wide open. She quickly closed it shut and shook her head hard, causing her hair to fall all over her face like she had stuck her head in a fire.

"Harry, then how – why did you come after me?"

Harry sighed. He told Ginny how he had kept coming back and forth from the walk by the lake to looking at her in the bathroom. He did not tell her, however, that he had dreamed of walking with her and he found that the thought now terrified him. Instead, he said that he had been walking alone.

"And then when you kept throwing the chair, I started to think how I wanted to wake up. And then I realized that I must be dreaming. And then suddenly, I woke up. First, I thought it was just a nightmare but then my scar was hurting and I thought it must be a vision."

"But Harry, how did he get into my dream? And why were you there?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wanted me to see it or maybe it was accidental."

"But what about the lake; was that just a dream?"

"It must have been, mustn't it? I couldn't have gone outside."

"Was it like that before – I – I mean the last time?"

Harry shook his head.

"It never went back and forth like that but this time it was longer, I suppose. But Ginny, what does he want with you?"

Ginny looked down quickly but then looked up again at Harry almost right away.

"He wanted to make me lead him to you but he – he didn't succeed. I wouldn't let him and I won't."

They started walking again.

"Of course you wouldn't."

"I mean, Harry," Ginny went on, exasperated. "He's not possessing me. I know. I remember what it was like. There aren't any blank moments. There aren't any times I can't account for."

"I know, Ginny. Don't worry. We'll just talk to McGonagall and everything will be O.K."

Ginny and Harry looked at each other briefly and Harry tried to put on a brave smile. But Ginny wondered whether he had read between the lines of her words and heard the desperate fear in her voice that Harry would avoid her, that he would be afraid to go anywhere near her, for fear she would lead him to the same fate as his family. For months now, she had forced her love for Harry to the back of her mind, had tried hard not to examine their growing friendship, not to hope for too much, for fear that it would distract her from her O.. But one horrible nightmare later, a series of school tests didn't seem important after all. She was sure that what she needed now was Harry.

They had reached the door to McGonagall's room. Harry raised his hand to knock but Ginny reached out and held it back.

"What?"

"Did you hear everything he said to me?" Ginny asked in as quiet and vulnerable a voice as Harry had ever heard her use.

"No, I told you. I was walking by the lake half the time…. Why? Ginny, is there something else you're not telling me?"

Ginny looked up at Harry, a far away, almost pleading look in her eyes. She opened her mouth as though about to say something but then closed it again.

"Ginny?" said Harry persistently.

Ginny shook her head.

"I – it's not important. It's nothing to do with him possessing me. It won't matter."

"Ginny, please tell me."

Ginny hesitated for a moment but then said again:

"N – no, Harry, I – I – just trust me."

"Ginny, it might be important, you don't - "

"I SAID TRUST ME!"

Harry and Ginny looked strangely surprised when the door they were standing in front slowly opened and Professor McGonagall's spectacled face appeared clad in tartan slippers and wearing rollers and a hair net that bore an uncanny resemblance to Aunt Petunia's.

"I suppose you two have a good reason for standing outside my door shouting at this hour."

"Yes," replied Harry without hesitation.

McGonagall nodded wearily. "I was afraid you might. I suppose you had better come in."

* * *

A few minutes later, Ginny and Harry were sitting on two large soft armchairs in McGonagall's living room. McGonagall drew herself up in a rocking chair and flicked her wand absently at the fire in the hearth which grew into full flame and then at the table in between Harry and Ginny, where two warm glasses of milk and some shortbread appeared.

"Drink. Eat," McGonagall ordered drowsily. "It will wake you up." She adjusted her half-moon glasses. "So, Potter, Weasley, what seems to be the matter?"

"I've had another vision," said Harry immediately.

McGonagall leaned forward, her glasses almost falling off her face, a sudden look of alarm on her face.

"And that's not all. Ginny had it, too. I was – I was inside Voldemort inside her mind – inside her nightmare."

There was a long pause as McGonagall looked across at Harry. He had the sudden, awkward impression she was not at all sure what to say which was, of course, precisely the opposite of what he had hoped for.

"Very well," McGonagall said finally. "Miss Weasley, please tell me about your nightmare."

Ginny once again launched into a nervous account of the dream she had experienced that night and then went on to describe the nightmares she had been having since the past summer, this time omitting altogether the dream she had had the night of the Guy Fawkes ball. After she had finished, both she and Harry looked up at their head of house expectantly.

"And you, Mr. Potter," she said, a little stoically. "What was your nightmare?"

"It was a vision!" said Harry, starting to feel a little annoyed at having to insist this. "And it was just like Ginny's. O – only I – I was looking at her."

Harry described what his dream and the frequent alternations between the lake and the bathroom.

For a moment, McGonagall's lips drew together tightly and she studied Ginny quite seriously. She looked on the point of saying something but then she seemed to stop herself and sighed, a ghost of a smile playing across her mouth. Harry was normally pleased to see McGonagall smile like this because it usually meant reprieve from some form of punishment or a general amnesty from homework. But this time he found himself very much disconcerted.

"Miss Weasley, I take that you have a Potions O.W.L. tomorrow morning?"

Ginny nodded and then sighed slightly herself.

McGonagall's face broke into a motherly smile.

"My dear child," she said, in a half-whisper. "None of us would wish upon our worst enemies what was visited upon you your first year at this school. And you have and will always have my deepest sympathy. But Hogwarts is safe from outside intrusion. It has been that way for hundreds of years. There is no way that Lord Voldemort could have penetrated your mind while you were sleeping here. The diary in which his memory was once trapped was completely destroyed by Mr. Potter and the Chamber of Secrets has long been sealed."

"But what about my vision!" Harry protested.

"Nightmares often seem real, Mr. Potter."

Harry stared back at McGonagall in disbelief. "If it was just a dream, how was it we both had the same one? It must have been Voldemort in her head!"

Both McGonagall and Ginny flinched instinctively at the name. When McGonagall looked back at Harry again, her gaze was considerably frostier.

"Did you and Miss Weasley perhaps discuss your dreams together on the way here?"

It was Ginny's turn to sound indignant.

"Of course we did! You think that Harry's making it up, don't you? How was it he knew how to find me?"

McGonagall briefly looked angry but then she seemed to force her face into a half-smile.

"I did not say nor do I mean, Miss Weasley, that Mr. Potter was making anything up. But you've both been through a great deal and that's bound to have affected your," she paused and swallowed, an unusually shifty look in her eyes, " – perception of things."

Harry stared back at her in astonishment. It was she who had led him to Dumbledore when he had had his vision of Mr. Weasley's attack without questioning his miraculous tale in the slightest. How could she change her tune now? What had he –

Harry paused in mid-thought. Of course, that was before –

"You think I'm off my rocker, don't you?" he said to McGonagall savagely. "Or maybe you don't," he added quickly, another realization dawning. "Maybe you think I am having these visions but that if you listen to me, someone else from the Order is going to get killed, just like Sirius!"

"Mr. Potter, pull yourself together! Don't you think I realize that no one feels worse about your godfather's death than you? But I can't go tearing up this school on your word!"

"If Hogwarts is so safe, how is that You-Know-Who could get into Harry's mind last year?" demanded Ginny.

"I do not pretend to understand Mr. Potter's connection with He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named. But I can assure you that it doesn't just work with anyone! Even in the darkest days of the first war, the Death Eaters were never able to attack Hogwarts! As long as you are inside this school, you are both safe! "

"Rubbish!" cried Harry, no longer caring that McGonagall's lips had set themselves into a very thin line indeed. "The school's been attacked loads of times, even since I've been a student. What about Professor Quirrell? And Sirius coming into our bedroom? And – and Professor Moody?"

"As I think you know, Mr. Potter, in each of the cases you describe, there was someone on the inside abetting the culprit. That is the only way anyone would be able to penetrate Hogwarts."

"But there's someone on the inside now, isn't there?" said Harry, his voice rising. "If he's possessing Ginny, he wants her – "

"Mr. Potter, that is enough!" cried McGonagall shrilly. "I will not have you contributing further to the already frazzled state of Miss Weasley's nerves!"

"Me? Contributing to….?" Harry cried, his voice croaking with the injustice of McGonagall's words. "I'm trying to help her."

McGonagall's voice softened slightly. "I've no doubt you are, Mr. Potter. And I also sympathize very much with your own situation."

"Yeah," said Harry, a little hollowly, and he sank back in the armchair sulking.

"Now, Miss Weasley," said McGonagall, turning to Ginny and ignoring Harry's reaction. "You have a test tomorrow and I expect you must be extremely anxious about it. It is very natural that your resting mind would find someone to personify those anxieties. And it is also natural that, for you, that person would be Tom Riddle."

Ginny and Harry both looked fit to burst but before either of them could say any more, she added quickly:

"Now, if you don't mind, I think all of us could do with some rest. I know that Miss Weasley in particular will be hard pressed to take her test tomorrow on very little sleep."

Ginny muttered something under her breath but McGonagall chose to ignore her.

"Fine, I just thought you might have been able to help, that's all." Harry got up and strode toward the door.

Before McGonagall could explode in all her glorious fury, Ginny quickly stood up and looking as though she was straining herself with effort, said in a very sweet voice:

"Thank you, Professor. "I'm very grateful for your help. I think I'll sleep easier now. Good night."

McGonagall studied her suspiciously but before she could say anymore, Ginny had followed Harry out to the door and closed it behind her.

* * *

McGonagall quickly walked over and locked her door behind Potter and Weasley. She waited until after she'd heard their footsteps disappear down the hall and then turned her back to the door and sighed heavily. The color which had risen in her cheeks in anger subsided very quickly. She took her glasses off and chewed one of the ends slowly in her mouth. She wasn't sure about Potter and Weasley, but she doubted that she would get any sleep at all for the remainder of the night.

She crossed over to the roaring fireplace, her slippers echoing noisily on the stone floor from her suddenly urgent footsteps. She quickly picked up a handful of floo powder from a stone urn at the side of the fireplace decorated in the shape of a Gryffin and cast it haphazardly into the flames.

"Severus Snape," she said clearly.

"What was all that about?" Harry demanded as soon as he and Ginny had left. "Why couldn't she help us? And why did you tell her she had?"

Ginny looked down at her feet and sighed.

"Oh, don't you see, Harry? I realized it finally. She didn't help us because she couldn't. Dumbledore isn't here and she doesn't know what to do. And she doesn't trust Snape any more than we do."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment again but then he sighed.

"I'm really sorry, Ginny," he said, feeling his anger ebb away. "I really thought she could help us."

In spite of everything, Ginny couldn't resist a small smile. At least Harry wasn't blaming himself anymore.

"You have too much faith in them," she said. "McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the others. They don't see everything, Harry, believe me. I know."

"I just feel like I let you down."

"You didn't let me down, Harry. You tried your best and I know you'll keep trying. And I feel a lot better, really."

Don't you see, Ginny went on. I don't care about McGonagall. You cared about me. Just a few of your words are worth a hundred insults from Tom Riddle. For once, I don't feel alone.

It was not until Ginny's train of thought had reached its conclusion that she realized no words had actually left her mouth. Instead, she found herself looking down at the stone floor, instinctively shielding her burning complexion from Harry's gaze.

Maybe it would do more good if you told him how you felt instead of just yourself, said a voice inside her head that sounded very much like Hermione. After all, you're both alone now and maybe he really is starting to like you back. But Ginny shut this thought down right away. Theories were one thing but she couldn't afford to take the chance that Harry would still reject her, not tonight, not on top of everything else.

Ginny might not have been far wrong about the degree to which Professor McGonagall truly trusted the acting headmaster. But she would have been no doubt surprised to have learned that at the very moment she was ruminating about Harry, Snape's milky white face had appeared in McGonagall's fireplace and at her request no less.

"Professor Snape," said McGonagall in an agitated manner. "Potter and Miss Weasley have just been to see me. Potter has had another vision. Weasley has been having nightmares. She thinks – Potter thinks – that You-Know-Who is trying to possess her mind again."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

McGonagall studied Snape for a moment. He did not look very much like a man who had just been roused from sleep even though it was the middle of the night.

"Severus, surely," McGonagall went on, as non-plussed by Snape's demeanor as Harry had been with her own. "What if he's right? I mean, You-Know-Who… well, naturally, I didn't say anything of the sort to them as you told me Dumbledore had said it was dangerous to encourage him and I can understand his reservations after what happened last spring, but what – what if You-Know-Who really has found his way back into Miss Weasley's mind? The Totalis potion. That's how he made that diary in the first place. Surely you're aware – "

"I am aware of a great deal, Minerva," said Snape steadily. "And I urge you remain calm. The headmaster and I have everything well under control."

"Well, I don't know what you've told Potter," retorted McGonagall, the Scottish lilt rising higher in her voice. "But I'm no fool, Severus! If You-Know-Who is possessing Miss Weasley, then your control over things is very tenuous indeed! At least you could tell the headmaster. I would reach him myself but as I think you know," she added, with a trace of resentment in her voice, "I have absolutely no idea where he is at the moment. I very much hope that you do!"

McGonagall's resentment grew stronger as the look on Snape's face seemed to suggest he was enjoying this.

"I will inform the headmaster as always. Thank you for keeping me apprised. And thank you for not sharing your concerns with Potter and Weasley. It is very much for the best, I assure you."

Snape's face disappeared.

McGonagall tutted antsily to no one in particular, and tapped her foot noisily on the floor. No, she was definitely not going to get back to sleep that night.

* * *

Harry lay awake in bed, his eyelids heavy with fatigue but unwilling to let himself fall into sleep until he had wrestled his thoughts into focus more clearly.

Harry realized he wasn't certain of much anymore. Hogwarts was the one last place left where he had thought he was safe. The discovery of the secret room had chipped away at that sense of safety but the knowledge that Voldemort might once again use Ginny as a weapon against him made him feel much, much worse.

But it was the very last conversation he had shared with Ginny that night that stuck in his mind the most as surely as if she had carved it there herself with a knife.

_"Don't tell Ron!"_

"What?"

"What I said. He didn't wake up, did he?"

"Well, I'm not sure, I – "

"No, he didn't. He would have come out with you."

"Well, I expect so, I suppose, but – but, Ginny, why? He's your brother. He's concerned for you. We all are."

"No, Harry." Ginny had shaken her head. "I don't need concern right now. I need to face this. I need to face him - alone. I have to or I – I'll never be able to go on with my life. I know you understand this, Harry. You've faced him yourself so I know you know. Ron wouldn't understand. But you do."

Harry watched Ron lying on the bed next to his, an undisturbed expression on his face. Had he really slept through the whole thing? Harry found himself wishing very much that he hadn't.

And Ron was his best friend. How could he not tell his best friend that his little sister's life and soul were in danger? And how could Ron ever forgive him if he found out?

_I know you understand this, Harry. You've faced him yourself so I know you know._

And Harry knew that Ginny was right.

And so before he finally surrendered to sleep, Harry made two very irrational decisions. He would not abandon Ginny Weasley, just as he had not abandoned her in the Chamber of Secrets, even at the cost of his own life.

And he would not tell Ron and Hermione anything that had happened to them that night.

* * *

The face of Professor McGonagall disappeared from the fireplace in the Potions Master's rooms, the rooms Snape had kept for himself, lest anyone might have had any greater cause to consider him an interloper to an office that rightly belonged to Dumbledore.

The lone occupant of the rooms stared thoughtfully at the fireplace for a moment, and then raised his sleeve to stare at the jet black mark just visible against his pale skin in the dying light of the fire.

After another few moments, he crossed over to the fireplace, and carefully took a handful of floo powder from a stone urn near the fireplace that was similar in many ways to that of Professor McGonagall except that it bore the head of a snake preparing to strike. Whereas McGonagall had thrown her floo powder into the fire with hurried carelessness, the occupant of the Potions master's rooms, who was no less anxious to deliver his own message, slowly churned the powder in his hands. Then when his pale white palm had finally turned a dirty grey, he threw the remains of the powder into the fireplace and said, loudly and clearly:

"Lord Voldemort."


	19. The Trap

Chapter 19

The Trap

On the final day of the term, Harry Potter heard the crow of the school roosters as he roused himself from bed, quickly dressed, and then crept past his sleeping roommates and left his room to go downstairs. His mind still half-asleep and half-consumed with fresh reminders of the laundry list of dilemmas that painfully crept back into his conscious thought each morning, he ignored the Fat Lady (and her mild reproach), left the common room, and went out down the staircase to the main section of the castle.

The last few weeks of the term had been surprisingly uneventful for Harry. The Quidditch final had come and gone. At first, it had provided a welcome distraction but the result – a narrow defeat to Ravenclaw – had left him feeling extremely bitter not least because of the manner in which it had been delivered: he had been about to close his hand on the Snitch when Cho Chang had appeared out of nowhere and, armed with her most satisfied of smiles, had deftly knocked Harry's broomstick off course leaving him with little to do but watch as it had veered into her waiting hand as if she had been able to guide it there. On top of it all, McGonagall had taken away ten points from Gryffindor when Hermione had let out a string of expletives from the stands which neither he nor her startled boyfriend had had any idea she possessed.

But Harry had far more to worry about than losing at game of Quidditch to Cho Chang. It had been during the previous week that McGonagall had called him into a private meeting in her office and explained that given the Death Eaters' last abortive attack on the Dursleys, he might have to remain at Hogwarts all summer. Apparently, the Order did not think it would be safe for him even to be transported to Order headquarters, even with a guard. At one time Harry would have been happy to have avoided the Dursleys for the entire year and he certainly had no wish to return to Grimmauld Place with its haunting memories of his godfather. But Harry no longer thought he was very much safer at school. He had said so to McGonagall and, for a moment, Harry had been sure he had seen a flicker of indecision on her face but then her expression had drawn shut and she had insisted that Hogwarts was the safest place Harry could possibly be. Harry had felt too morose to argue with her and he had not had the energy necessary to send another owl to Dumbledore by stealth. And this time even Hermione had known better than to suggest that he owl Professor Lupin.

Harry had also still not told a living soul – not even Ron or Hermione – about the night he and Ginny had shared their vision of Voldemort. He was not at all sure why he was protecting Ginny like this. Perhaps they had become closer friends than before but surely his loyalty must go first to Ron? Even if Dumbledore or McGonagall could apparently do nothing to help, at least his best friend had a right to know what had happened to his sister, didn't he? He shuddered to think how Ron would react if he ever found out – not to mention Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Scratching his head as he mulled these things over for the umpteenth time, Harry rounded the corridor which ended in the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had had several more private tutorials with Nevins since the day he had unceremoniously walked out of his office. Nevins had remained professional and even friendly to Harry but every now and then when he was caught off-guard Harry could see a searching, almost pleading look on his face, at which point Harry had nearly always forced his gaze away.

They were originally supposed to have their final tutorial later that morning, in advance of Harry's last exam of the term for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class proper, but Nevins had owled him during dinner the previous evening requesting that Harry come to his final Defense tutorial before breakfast the following morning. Such was the increasingly rebellious state of Harry's moods that he had half a mind not to show up, but in the end his curiosity had overcome his resentment.

As was often the case in recent weeks, Harry found that he had reached the door to Nevins' office far sooner than he'd wished. He knocked and expected to hear Nevins' customary call to enter but instead he heard the shuffling of footsteps and soon Nevins opened the door himself.

"Please come in, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry entered the office and sat down. Nevins walked in behind him and took a position behind his own desk. He did not sit, however, but zipped up a small briefcase that had been lying on top, then turned to look at Harry.

"There will be no lesson today, Harry," he said. "You have completed all of the training I can give you. I think, after this, you might find seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts mostly review and I dare say you will have little difficulty on the test I have arranged for this afternoon. You have performed admirably, Harry. You are indeed your father's son."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found that no sound could come out.

"I asked you to come here so early, Harry, because I have to leave Hogwarts this morning. I have an assignment of my own to complete on behalf of Professor Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. Professor Grubbly-Plank will be proctoring your examination this afternoon. I dare say she will be more than capable of sitting in front of the room and feigning a lack of boredom."

"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated garrulously, finding himself a little surprised that Nevins knew about the Order. "Where is he? Wh – what assignment? What's going on?"

Nevins held up his hand.

"Questions I wish I could answer, Harry, but I'm afraid I cannot."

"W – will we see each other again?" Harry was surprised at the note of desperation that seemed to creep into his voice as he asked this question.

Nevins paused for a moment. A dark shadow flickered across his features.

"I hope so, Harry. I very much hope so."

There was a long pause. Then Harry cleared his throat and said:

"S – so you brought me here this morning just to tell me that you're leaving?"

"To tell you that I'm leaving and because there's something I want to give you."

Nevins reached into his top desk drawer and produced a small opaque sphere that reminded Harry a great deal of Neville's Remembrall. He took it gingerly in his hand and handed it to Harry.

Harry was surprised to find that the sphere was very soft and almost sticky like a giant mass of partially congealed glue. Yet when he rolled it back and forth in his palm, he discovered it left no residue. He started to squeeze the sphere but stopped when Nevins hastily grabbed hold of his wrist.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You might end up in a large vat of pancake batter in the kitchen."

Harry looked curiously at Nevins.

"It's called a Space Catcher," Nevins explained. "And it belonged to your father. He put it to all kinds of good uses, usually having to do with sneaking out of the dormitory at night after his invisibility cloak was taken away by Professor Dumbledore or escaping detention. I eventually confiscated it. It is after all an extremely dangerous device. After your father left Hogwarts, I offered to return it to him but he thought I could put it to better use. Now I think you will find more use for it than I."

"What does it do?"

"It is a crude disapparation device. Whoever squeezes it will disapparate and reapparate in another location. It will not take you very far from where you left and, for that reason, your father felt it safe. I felt otherwise. You see, Harry, the Space Catcher operates on a random principle. The user has no idea where he will end up."

"And you think it safe if I use it?"

Nevins didn't quite meet Harry's gaze. "Safer than certain death at the hands of an army Death Eaters, yes."

Harry swallowed.

Nevins looked up again, took his briefcase in his hand, and moved around to the other side of the desk. He held out his hand. Harry hesitated for a moment and then shook it.

"Good luck, Harry," he said.

"And you, sir," replied Harry.

Nevins nodded to Harry and then proceeded to the door.

"Oh," he said, turning around to look back at Harry. "By the way, it's rather difficult to find a quiet place to study on the last day of term. You're welcome to stay in here if you like, Ron and Hermione, too. You'll find the door will open at your touch. I'll be off then."

Nevins swiftly swung around and reached out for the door knob. He was about to turn the handle when Harry called out:

"There was nothing you could have done. If you had tried to save my parents, Voldemort would just have killed you, too. I think deep down you know that."

A strange silence filled the room like the absence of sound after a loud thunderclap. Harry was not sure what had made him call out like that. It was not something he had planned or thought about before he had said it. Nevins took his hand away from the door and turned around to look at Harry. He looked very pale.

"Thank you, Harry," he said simply and turned to open the door again.

"Professor!" Harry called out again.

Nevins turned around.

"Please, I – I don't know what's going to happen to me – to my friends. I – I – I'm really scared."

Harry slumped back in his chair, astonished at the words that had just escaped from his mouth, and the weak, frightened childlike voice that had formed them. He looked up at Nevins, desperately wanting to take back what he had just said, and show the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that he was as brave and strong as he had shown him all along. He braced himself against Nevins' anger and his disgust.

But Nevins showed neither reaction. Instead, he walked back to face Harry, clasped a hand on his shoulder, and looked him firmly in the eye.

"I'll say it again, Harry," he said slowly. "You have the skills you need to face whatever might come to you. Just do yourself a favor and learn from an old man's mistakes: have faith in your friends and in yourself. And be brave, Harry. Just be brave."

* * *

"I'm sure he left better knowing how you really felt, Harry," said Hermione gently, as she, Harry, and Ron were sitting down together at breakfast.

"Yeah," said Harry, staring moodily at his Wizard Puffs. "Only I'm not sure I really meant it."

Ron studied his egg and bacon rather closely, too. He certainly hoped Hermione had something more to say because he knew he was not very good at this sort of thing.

"Of course you did, Harry," said Hermione.

Harry let out a non-committal groan.

"Mail's here," said Ron, looking up and glad to find a change of topic.

A cacophony of owls swooped down into the Great Hall bearing the usual last minute lists of reminders from parents anxious to ensure their offspring did not leave anything behind again this year. Neville had to cover his head with his arms as half a dozen owls swooped in on his position at the same time.

Pigwidgeon glided down and dropped a letter in Ron's lap. He picked it up and opened it curiously, then raised his eyebrows in glee when he saw what it contained.

"Look, it says 'congratulations on finishing your exams: four sickles off all purchases over two knuts at Honeydukes. This Saturday only.'"

"I've got one, too!" said Hermione.

"Cheer up, mate," said Ron, looking at Harry and pleased to find something to talk about other than Nevins' morbid confessions or Harry's lack of a home for the summer. "Just think: one more test and then we're free and it's Hogsmeade and Honeydukes tomorrow."

Ron's smile died on his face as he looked up and noticed that, in addition to his own Honeydukes coupon, Harry brandished an envelope with the Hogwarts crest and was now reading the letter.

"I'm afraid you'll be going without me," he said glumly and held up the letter for Ron and Hermione to see. Ron took it from him and read it along with Hermione.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I regret to inform you that due to heightened concerns about your safety, it will be necessary for you to remain inside the school grounds this weekend. I am afraid you will have to cancel any plans to participate in the final Hogsmeade weekend. I remain, of course, well aware of your usual disregard for rules and warnings. Should you choose to disobey this letter, however, you should not expect to be rescued again. I will instead be more than happy to live with one less burden in my Potions lessons next term.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape  
Acting Headmaster

"Cheerful git," remarked Ron.

"Harry," said Hermione. "You're not leaving the castle this time!"

"Don't worry," said Harry despondently. "I'll be a good boy."

"Well, there's one thing for certain," said Ron. "If you stay, we're staying, too!"

"No, you're not!" retorted Harry. "You've got your coupons and you're going to use them!"

"Harry!" protested Hermione. "It won't be fun without you!"

"Besides," added Ron. "I'm sure the weather will play up. Always does."

Ron had no sooner finished his sentence when a pleasantly warm, sunny breeze drifted in through the open window next to them and ruffled his ginger hair.

"It will be fun without me," said Harry, a trace of bitterness in his voice, "and you know it. It's your first summer as a couple." He tried to smile but finished up looking no more convincing than Professor Binns. "Here, take my coupon." He shifted the Honeydukes' envelope over to Ron. "And I expect lots of chocolate when you come back."

The envelope sat on the table for a moment. Then Ron grudgingly put it into the pocket of his robes. But neither he nor Hermione smiled back.

* * *

Ginny Weasley ran out of the main doors of the school and onto the Hogwarts grounds, her heart lighter than it had been all year. She ran up to the cool, glistening waters of the lake, found her favorite tree, and made a happy tumble through the grass before resting her back against its trunk. She closed her eyes, drank in the pungent smell of fresh wild heather, and let her hands run over the softly textured bluegrass. The seasons were never hidden to Ginny. She knew that summer had arrived and now, at last, she could begin to appreciate it.

The exams were over. The long-feared O. were finally at an end. And for once Ginny would not think about her nightmares and Tom Riddle's manipulative plans. She would just enjoy her achievement and her freedom like any normal fifteen-year-old witch finishing the most difficult and dreaded tests of her life - as if that was all she had to worry about.

Ginny had no sooner rested her head back to smile at the thought than she felt a long bushy tail tickle the side of her arm. She opened her eyes and giggled.

"Hello, Crookshanks," she said.

"Hello, Ginny," said a voice approaching the tree from the other side.

Ginny turned around.

"Hermione," she said. "Finished already?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, then sat down beside her friend. "And you?"

Ginny nodded and broke into a broad smile, unable to conceal her delight.

"I was the first one out," she said. "Poor Amanda and Catherine are still in there."

"I was, too, last year," said Hermione.

"And you got top marks?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'll try not to hope for too much," said Ginny but she could not keep the smile off her face. "What about Ron and Harry?"

Hermione frowned. "Ron's still in there. I was just going back in to check up but I couldn't resist a walk by the lake. It just feels so oppressive in that castle."

"And Harry?"

"Harry finished first this time. He was out of there in less than an hour. I suppose it's all the extra Defense lessons he had. He'll make a great auror, if that's what he really wants to do."

Hermione kept her smile but all of the color left her cheeks.

"Hermione," said Ginny gently. "Is everything OK?"

Hermione looked down at the ground and picked at a few blades of grass. "It's just – " She stopped and sighed. "He still doesn't know what will happen to him and I don't know either. He might have to stay in the castle all summer. Ron and I asked McGonagall if we could stay, too, but she hasn't told us yet."

"I want to stay, too," said Ginny firmly.

Hermione nodded. She looked thoughtfully down at the earth for a moment.

"Ginny," she said hesitantly.

Ginny's smile faded.

"I – I don't want to spoil your day but suppose McGonagall doesn't let us stay. Suppose Harry's all alone here in the castle."

Or worse, thought Hermione, but she kept this to herself.

"Do you really – I mean – I'm sorry, Ginny, but how long are you going to let this drag out? You might be gone by next week. Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?"

"I – I was busy," said Ginny, going red. "All I could think about was those awful O.."

Hermione looked searchingly into Ginny's eyes.

"Isn't that a bit of an excuse?" she said. "I thought that shy little girl wasn't coming back."

"It's not – she's not!" cried Ginny and then almost immediately sighed.

"Do you understand, Ginny?" said Hermione quietly. "I love Harry. But I can't love him the way you do. He's going further back into his own world every day. I can be his friend and so can Ron. But he needs more than that now. He needs someone to love him. He needs you, Ginny. I don't care whether he knows it or not but he needs you."

There was a long pause.

"I know, Hermione," said Ginny finally, so softly Hermione wasn't sure that she had really heard the words. "I thought I was so clever when I set things up so we'd be alone that night of the ball. And after that, finding a way to study with him. And we did get to know each other better and I can still act like a normal person in front of him but I – I still just can't say those three big words."

Hermione put her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Yes you can, Ginny," she said. "Listen to me. Harry got a letter from Snape this morning. He won't be able to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow. Snape thinks it's too dangerous. But he won't let Ron and I stay here with him. I think he just wants to stay here alone and brood all day." She sighed. "But he didn't say anything about you, Ginny. You could stay there with him. And then – " Hermione hesitated. " – then you can tell him how you really feel. It's your best chance."

To Hermione's immense relief, Ginny nodded.

"I'll tell him," she said, though it seemed to take all of her strength.

"Good." Hermione slowly smiled.

A cautious smile played over Ginny's own lips but vanished quickly. She suddenly stood up, took out her wand, and stared at the base of the large tree under which she had sat as though she expected it to attack her.

"Ginny?" said Hermione curiously. "What's wrong?"

"I – I heard something – in the trees," said Ginny anxiously. She realized how this must look to Hermione, but though she managed to suppress her anxieties for most of the waking day, Ginny's nerves had remained on edge ever since her last nightmare.

"I expect – " Hermione began but stopped as Crookshanks leapt out of her arms with a loud snarl and darted swiftly into the forest.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione cried out. "Crookshanks! Come back here."

Both girls let out a sigh.

"I heard something moving, something scuttling," explained Ginny, now feeling a little foolish. "I suppose Crookshanks heard it, too, and decided it was time for an early dinner."

"Crookshanks!" called Hermione again. She peered cautiously through the branches of a bush next to the tree. "Crookshanks! Come back here right now!"

A few more moments passed before there was a softer rustling sound and Crookshanks slowly made his way back out of the undergrowth, a very sulky expression on his pudgy face.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, took the cat into her arms, and began to groom the twigs off his body, shaking her head as she did so.

"Anyway," she said, turning back to Ginny. "I suppose I'd better be getting back to Ron. Good luck."

Still holding Crookshanks, Hermione put an awkward arm around Ginny and they exchanged a quick hug. Then Hermione turned and walked back toward the castle but before she had taken more than a few paces, she stopped and looked back again.

"Ginny," she said.

"Hermione?"

"Don't take no for an answer."

* * *

It was still fairly early the next morning when Ron and Hermione made their way into Honeydukes.

"I know exactly what Harry would like," declared Ron. "We'll load up the bag with Chocolate Frogs, Jittering Jellies, and Flamelian Fudge, and then take it straight back to him."

He tugged on Hermione's hand and pulled her straight into the "Sugar Tooth" section of the shop where all of the large supplies were kept. So intent was Ron on finding the sweets he thought Harry would want that he didn't notice when Hermione made a face.

"Ron," she said. "He won't like it if we're back so early. He'll get all moody again."

"Nonsense," said Ron. "He'll forget all about that when he's seen what we've got for him."

Hermione continued to look anxious behind Ron's back. After their breakfast the day before, Hermione might have been inclined to agree with him but now she wanted to make sure Ginny had more than enough time before she and Ron returned.

"Now, let's see." Ron handed a pile of Chocolate Frogs to Hermione who reluctantly placed them into a small plastic cauldron that served as a shopping basket at Honeydukes.

"And these are for us." He handed her an even larger stack.

"Ron, I can't eat all these!"

"Don't worry, I can manage most of them."

Hermione sighed but Ron was already searching on the next shelf.

"Ah, Jittering Jellies, found them. Not many here, though. We'll just have to give them all to Harry."

Ron smiled at Hermione as he handed her a stack. He turned back to look at the shelves again when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"What?" He turned around to look at Hermione but found she was not the one who had touched him. He turned in the other direction to find himself face to face with the prominent chin of Tobias Whitherstripe, the proprietor.

"Don't mean to bother you but I'm a little short of help today. If you're going to clean me out, do you think you'd mind going downstairs and bringin' up some more? Big strapping lad like you shouldn't find it too difficult. Only I can't leave the front of the store."

"Oh, right," said Ron, his hands covered in Jittering Jellies.

"I'll help," said Hermione briskly and led Ron by his sticky hand away from the sweets shelves.

"That's the spirit, luv," said Whitherstripe. "Just down these stairs."

Whitherstripe motioned to a door just behind his desk which opened to a set of stairs leading down to the cellar. A musty smell hung in the air as they made their way down a creaking set of floorboards, the noisy sounds of dozens of sweet-shopping students upstairs fading quickly to muffled obscurity. Ron was just beginning to wonder why the room seemed to unnerve him when Hermione squeezed his hand tightly and gasped.

"What?" asked Ron, his startled heart thumping against his chest.

"Sorry," said Hermione right away. "I thought I heard something move."

"Probably just a rat," said Ron. "Isn't it lit down here?"

He took out his wand.

"Lumos," he said and Hermione followed suit.

They searched around the room for a moment. The walls were covered in misshapen boxes. Most of them rested so precariously Ron was sure they must have been held there with magic. They eventually found an enormous box marked: JITTERING JELLIES standing awkwardly on top of three others.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "How are we going to get that thing down? And how are we going to carry it?"

Hermione cleared her throat and held out her wand.

"Oh," said Ron. "Right."

Hermione flicked her wand at the box and guided it slowly away from the shelf. She started to lower it to hover just above the ground when there was an ominous sliding sound. She looked up just in time to see Ron waving his wand frantically at the lower three boxes on the shelf which, despite his efforts, quickly collapsed to the floor spilling all of their contents. Distracted, Hermione lost control of her own box which fell awkwardly into her arms causing her wand to drop to the floor.

"Ron!" she cried, teetering back and forth from the over-balanced weight of the box. "Help!"

Ron quickly grabbed the other side of the box and he and Hermione eased it down to the floor.

They both stood up panting. Hermione casually flicked a stray lock of hair out of her face and surveyed the floor. The other three boxes hadn't been as lucky as the Jittering Jellies. The room was soon filled with the sounds of loud popping as Fizzing Whizzbees erupted from their packaging; Saccharin Snakes writhed in every open space; and Chocolate Frogs hopped merrily over the chaos. When the noise finally subsided along with the expended charms of the sweets, Hermione looked up at Ron:

"Now what?"

But Ron just smiled at her curiously.

"You know, I was just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Wondering whether Hermione Granger has ever been kissed in a dusty cellar surrounded by messy sweets."

"No more than she had in a kitchen full of half-baked pork pies."

Ron continued to smile. "Well, then."

Hermione frowned. "I never knew you were like this, you know."

Ron edged toward her. "And now that you do?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but a giggle escaped. This proved all the encouragement Ron needed to reach out and pull her toward him, but just before their lips could connect, Hermione pushed herself down on him hard and both of them landed on top of the Jittering Jellies. The box split open as they started to kiss. Hermione pulled Ron into a tumble and soon both of them were soon covered in Jittering Jellies, Saccharin Snakes, Fizzing Whizzbees, and very mushy Chocolate Frogs.

Ron moaned with delight as his senses were filled with his two great indulgences: chocolate and Hermione. Hermione locked him into a fierce embrace and both of them continued to roll around on the floor, picking up debris like an avalanche.

All of this caused such a distraction that neither noticed when a squat form emerged from the shadows and jumped on top of them. It was not until the figure had rode them like a beach ball for a moment, jumped off, and then bellowed a cheerful greeting that Ron and Hermione quickly disentangled themselves, jumped for their wands and cried:

"Lumos!"

Twin beams shone out from the two wands onto the golf-ball shaped eyes of Dobby the house-elf.

"Dobby!" said Hermione anxiously, trying desperately to flatten her hair, which now stood out in all directions and, with the addition of several gooey sweets, made her resemble a psychedelic peacock.

Dobby clasped his hands together. "Dobby is very sorry indeed. Dobby did not mean to disturb wizard mating behavior. But Dobby is very happy to have found Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley – safe!"

"We weren't – " Ron started angrily but Hermione held up her hand.

"What do you mean safe, Dobby? What's wrong?"

Dobby's eyes darted back and forth from Hermione to Ron.

"But – but where is Harry Potter? Surely he is with his closest friends in Hogsmeade on such a nice day?"

Ron shook his head. "Harry had to stay in the castle."

Dobby let out a yelp of fright.

"What is it, Dobby?" Hermione asked urgently. "Harry's safe there. It was too dangerous for him to come with us to Hogsmeade. Snape sent him a letter! He said so."

But before Hermione had finished her sentence, Dobby was already shaking his head, the corners of his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, no," he moaned. "No, no, it's a trap! They wanted to wait until Harry Potter was alone in the castle, with no teachers and no friends! Then they are going to find him and kill him!"

"Who's going to kill him?" demanded Hermione. "How are they going to get into the castle? How do you know this?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming back!" squeaked Dobby. "She's prepared everything for them! She has confessed everything to Dobby!"

It was all Ron could do to keep from grabbing Dobby by the apron and shaking him.

"Who, Dobby?" he demanded. "Who's she?"

Tears ran down Dobby's cheeks. "Winky, sir. Winky has been working for them, helping them all along. Winky has betrayed Harry Potter, sir; Winky has betrayed us all!"

* * *

Ginny watched as Catherine reluctantly left and went downstairs to join her boyfriend, leaving her alone in their room. She walked over to a mirror in front of her bed and for the first time in ages, took the time to comb the knots out of her long, curly hair, occasionally feeling the warm mid-morning sun kiss the side of her face and a pleasant breeze blow the curtain of their open window to and fro.

Her eyes moving back and forth to make sure that no one was entering the room, Ginny took out her wand and enchanted her lips to match the color of her ginger hair. Ginny studied herself for a moment and then flicked her wand again, changing her lipstick to bright pink. But this still didn't seem right. She waved her wand again and the lipstick disappeared entirely. No, not that either.

Ginny looked at herself for a moment before her eyes widened in a sudden inspiration. She reached under her bed and fished quickly in the bottom of her Hogwarts trunk before emerging with a faded blue cylinder that fit in the palm of her hand. Muggle lipstick. A present her father had given her some years before. Ginny yanked the two sides of the cylinder open, surprised at how easily they separated. She then pursed her lips and after some hesitation applied the strawberry-colored lipstick to her lips, noting with pleasure that it smudged slightly in the corner in a way that the preciseness of wand magic could not have. Ginny wondered whether Harry would like that sort of thing. She, Ginny, thought it was cool.

Ginny looked at herself again and sighed. She knew better than to practice lines in front of a mirror. She was not a shy and nervous person; she never had been. She was going to tell Harry exactly how things were; it was as simple as that.

Ginny ignored the knotted sensation that stymied her knees like a half-formed jinx. She forced herself up, opened the door, and walked out to the top of the staircase above the common room. She knew that an anxious, fearful part of her hoped that Harry would be gone. But there he was, sitting alone, feeding his pet and gazing absently at the table top in front of him. Ginny drew a deep breath and started to walk down the stairs. There was no going back now; perhaps there had never been. And when she was finished, all the years of questions and doubts would finally end.

One way or the other.

* * *

The crystal glowed brighter and moved faster, its signal triggered by the end of a flawlessly mixed potion in the dark corner of the Forbidden Forest. The house-elf called Winky had prepared the seven places around the table, just as she had been told to. And now these seats slowly began to fill, at first with ghost-like apparitions but then with more tangible forms. Finally, as the whitish-blue light of the crystal turned so fast that it seemed to shine out from all directions at once, six grown Death Eaters in cloaks and masks appeared in the six seats which ringed the small table and one dark-cloaked maskless figure materialized at its head.

If Hermione Granger had been present, she might have argued herself into hysterics that she was seeing the impossible. No one could apparate inside of Hogwarts. No one could even dare. But on this day, a magic much stronger and darker than anything Hermione could dare to imagine, much less try, had broken through the old magic that protected Hogwarts just as surely as it had Number 4 Privet Drive.

The dark cloaked figure withdrew his hood. Lord Voldemort allowed himself a thin smile at his Death Eaters. He took the diary out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him, letting it bathe in the glow of the crystal. He let his fingers run over the large gaping hole in the center where Harry Potter had once plunged the basilisk fang through its core. But though free from its original spell, the diary was now a conduit, a talisman for a much powerful magic than Tom Riddle would ever have known about.

Voldemort's smile widened as he felt Ginny's mind as surely as if he were touching it with his own fingers. The signal was now strong, much stronger than it had been when Voldemort had been forced to link to Ginny from further away. She would not feel any pain today, save that of her own choosing. She would not have any idea how intimately the Dark Lord was intruding on her mind. And the ancient defenses of the Original Room would ensure him that Potter would remain just as ignorant of his presence.

At least, that was, until it was much, much too late.

"They are together, Potter and Weasley?" came the dulcet tones of the Dark Lord's most faithful servant from behind a mask to his left.

Voldemort smiled and nodded slowly.

"I can sense her fear, Severus," he hissed, his eyes closed as if enjoying the perfect chords of a symphony. "I know it so well. She would not be afraid were she not truly with him. She fears I will find her, a fear that runs much deeper than her conscious thoughts will allow her to know."

There was a fidgeting and shuffling to Voldemort's right.

"What is it, Wormtail?" asked Voldemort, not opening his eyes or taking his hand off the diary. "You may speak. The information you provided us from the conversation between the blood traitor and the mudblood has proved very valuable indeed. You have done well and for that you have Lord Voldemort's gratitude."

The Death Eater fidgeted even more. "My Lord," came a breathless, whimpering voice. "Why don't we kill the boy now, now that they are together, now that you know where they are. S – surely it will be easier?"

Voldemort shook his head. "Easier, Wormtail, but not better. You can relax. She will not leave him soon. The Dark Lord knows this about her. Rest assured, Wormtail, before the sun has reached its full height, Harry Potter and his would-be girlfriend will be dead and Hogwarts will belong to us."


	20. The Rescue

Chapter 20

The Rescue

Harry sat idly on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room, his legs propped up on the table in front of him. He was trying to read Quidditch Through the Ages while absently feeding bonglewhompers to Snitch. He was also trying not to think about what Hermione and Ron might be doing now in Hogsmeade without him. Judging by the lack of turned pages in his book, however, he wasn't having very much luck.

Now and then Harry looked up to the common room around him. It was deserted except for two second-year girls playing a game of Exploding Snap at the far end. Nearly all of the older students were in Hogsmeade and most of the younger ones were outside on the grounds. He tried not to think whether this was how he would be spending the entire summer.

He found himself wondering why he had been so eager for his friends to go to Hogsmeade without him. He could have stayed here with Ron and played wizard chess all day. But then, he reflected, neither of them would be very happy and then he would just feel guilty. And he was very tired of feeling guilty.

They won't have fun, anyway, said a voice inside his head. They'll just be thinking about you. You're afraid to accept their friendship now. You're turning your back on them.

Harry buried his face in his book as though doing so would make him read and silence these troublesome thoughts. Snitch yelped again and Harry fed him another bonglewhomper without even looking. He was just about to turn a page for the first time that morning when a very unnatural sound made him look up. He took one look at Snitch who was bending over so that his trunk dangled onto the table top and another horrified glance at the absence of remaining bonglewhompers on the table.

"Oh, no!" he said. "Snitch!"

Snitch looked up bleary-eyed at his master and let out a pitiful moan like a dying car horn. Harry stared back at him, not at all sure what to do.

Harry did not realize that he was no longer alone until another pair of hands, smaller and softer than his own, reached down and scooped up Snitch in a quick but tender motion.

"I – I overfed him," Harry said to Ginny. "I wasn't paying attention. H – He kept asking for more."

Ginny didn't reply. She rocked Snitch slowly up and down.

"I – I don't think you should do that," said Harry, "unless you want Snitch sick all over your hands."

Ginny did not reply again but with her index finger rubbed Snitch lightly under his trunk. After a few moments, he led out an almighty belch that reminded Harry of a champagne cork popping. Ginny then rested him back down on top of the table. Snitch looked back up at her, still feeble but much less distraught, and made a long soft sound like the purring of a cat.

"He'll be all right," said Ginny. "He just needs to rest."

She took out her wand and conjured a tiny canopy bed which looked like a miniature version of Harry's complete with sheets and a pillow. She took Snitch in her palm and laid him inside, pulling up the small sheet between her thumb and index finger and resting it on top of him. Harry watched all this in fascination and was surprised to find that within less than a minute, Snitch seemed to have fallen into a contented sleep, his trunk moving up and down in rhythm with his rising and falling chest as he ever so slightly snored.

"You're so – gentle."

Harry didn't realize he'd said the words until Ginny turned around to look at him, surprise on her face.

"I – I mean," Harry hastily added. "You're really good with him, much, much better than I am. I can never get him to go to sleep. How did you know how to do that, anyway?"

"We've been learning all about how to take care of the young ones in Care of Magical Creatures," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "I suppose you've been having different lessons in sixth year. I wonder that Hagrid hasn't told you, though, since you have one as a pet."

"Oh," said Harry, slowly realizing that in fact they had also been learning how to take care of Beethoven's puppies but he had often been too distracted to pay much attention.

Harry looked across at Ginny who was now sitting on the sofa beside him as if noticing her for the first time. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone to Hogsmeade."

Ginny shook her head and took a deep breath. Forcing herself to look Harry directly in the eye, she said:

"I – I heard you had to stay. I thought you might be lonely again."

There was a long uncomfortable pause. Harry looked back down at Snitch and then up at Ginny again.

"I – I – w - well, thanks, I – would you like to play another game?" Harry said, almost apologetically. "I – I expect we can think of something besides Wizard Truth. I don't think that – "

"Actually, Harry," Ginny interrupted, a little more forcefully than she had intended. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Er, OK," said Harry tentatively, flinching slightly.

"Actually," said Ginny, lowering her voice but not her eyes. "There are three things I'd like to tell you."

"Three things," repeated Harry, even more cautiously.

"F – first, I – I want to thank you, Harry."

"Thank me? For what?"

"You didn't tell Ron what happened to me. I know how hard that must have been for you, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it."

There was another significant pause. This time, the heartfelt candor in Ginny's voice had not failed to express itself to Harry. He suddenly had the unusual desire to reach out to grab Ginny's soul and pull it into him. He wasn't sure how but he suddenly he felt that Ginny had communicated herself to him so perfectly at that moment that he knew exactly how she felt as surely as if he'd experienced it himself.

And then, without really thinking about it all, Harry suddenly said in a quiet almost methodical way:

"I killed Sirius."

Ginny's eyes widened.

"Harry, no, you didn't!"

Harry shook his head.

"It's no good trying to make me feel better, you know," he went on, speaking in a low yet determined tone. "I may not have meant to but if it weren't for me, he never would have had to leave Grimmauld Place. He would still be alive and I – "

"Sirius spent the whole year looking for an excuse to leave!" retorted Ginny, as if seized by a sudden recklessness. "You know that!"

Harry stood up.

"But he wouldn't have done!"

He was shouting now. He was vaguely aware that the two second year girls had stopped played their game but he did not care.

"He would have protected himself even though he didn't like it!" Harry went on. "He came out because he wanted to rescue me, because he cared about me! I was like his brother, or his son; goddess knows he didn't have any real family! And I betrayed him!"

Ginny stood up, too.

"You didn't betray him!" she shouted back. "He didn't have to come after you at all. All the rest of the Order were going to the Ministry. It wasn't like he was the only one! And he was told to stay behind!"

"HOW DARE YOU BLAME THIS ON SIRIUS! WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE? WHAT WOULD ANY OF US HAVE DONE?"

Ginny continued to stare at Harry, the expression on her face still every bit as defiant as the words she had just uttered, but try as she might, she could not think of a reply.

"You know it's true, don't you?" said Harry in a much softer but sadder sounding voice. "You're trying to make me feel better but you know it's true. There's no way I can go back and change anything, I know that. I – I just have to live with it, somehow just like I have to live with the fact that one day I have to face Voldemort - alone."

Before Ginny realized what she was doing, she had taken Harry's hands in hers. As if on cue, they both sat down again.

"Harry, listen to me," she said softly. "You didn't kill Sirius. Bellatrix Lestrange did. And you're right: you can't go back and change everything just like I couldn't go back and stop myself from writing in that diary. And I won't tell you that you don't have to face You-Know – He-Who – V-V-Voldemort one day. But you don't have to face these things alone, Harry. You never have to face anything alone."

And then Ginny moved in closer and took Harry into her arms. She did not force herself on him the way that she had the night of her nightmare, but she did not hold anything back either. She did not restrain herself as she had on the platform at Christmas time or at the beginning of term. She let her hands run slowly up and down Harry's back just as tenderly as she had tucked in his pet. She let the side of her face rub gently against his. She still had not told him she loved him but she had let that love run to him through every point of tension in her grasp. She did not know what Harry must know or think of her embrace, whether the language of her body conveyed the message of her heart as clearly as her words. Even as she held him, she wondered whether he would start to stiffen, afraid of going too far, of growing too close. But Harry did not let go and after what seemed like a very long time, Ginny heard a soft cry against her ear and felt Harry's tears moisten the top of her shoulder.

At long last, Ginny felt Harry move out of the embrace. She let her fingers linger for a little while longer on his shoulders before separating herself completely. Harry looked at her for a moment, his eyes still filled with tears. Ginny quickly conjured a tissue and gave it to Harry. He took off his glasses and dried them, then did the same to his eyes.

"Thank you," said Harry finally, a little awkwardly. "I – I suppose, well – " He paused. "Thank you, anyway. I – I'm sorry I shouted at you."

Ginny shook her head.

"I'm sorry I said all those things about Sirius," she replied candidly. "He was brave, braver than all of us, and I loved him, too."

Harry looked across at her a little strangely as if suddenly realizing something.

"Th – that night we went to see McGonagall. Y – you said you had to face Voldemort alone, but you just said that I – "

Ginny did not flinch at the name this time. She just shook her head, a tear falling down her own cheek.

"I was wrong, too, Harry. I was wrong for much longer than you. I don't want to face him alone anymore. I want to face him with you."

There was a third pause. Then Harry smiled a strange smile.

"I'm not sure you want to face what's coming to me."

To Harry's slight surprise, Ginny nodded.

"It must be difficult," she said. "I – I mean with You-Know-Who after your neck. Not knowing what's going to happen. I wasn't conscious when he wanted to kill me – well, not for most of it, anyway," she added, not without a slight shudder.

"No," said Harry, sighing almost with relief. "It's all right. It's not that that worries me. I'm not really afraid to die. I'm just afraid he'll take away the lives of my friends because of me. Just like he did with Sirius."

"How can you say that, Harry? You're so young. You have every right to expect to live a long time!"

"We all die, Ginny."

"That's not a very nice thing to think about."

"But it's true. Whether it's sixteen years or sixty. It doesn't matter to me how long I live. I just want to have the chance to enjoy one perfect moment. And I have. Much more than one. I found out who I really was. I had the chance to come to Hogwarts, play Quidditch – and make real friends, friends I never had all my life until I came here."

Ginny paused for a moment, trying to take in what Harry had just said.

"Harry," she said.

"Ginny?"

"I – I realize Sirius didn't know he was going to die but, what if – well, what if one of your friends was willing to die for you? What if that was their choice? Would you accept it?"

Harry reacted as if he had just been on the receiving end of a particularly vicious hex. "I – I don't know," he mumbled. "I – I – " He paused and swallowed. "Well," he said, his face shutting like a door. "I suppose you'd better get on and tell me the second thing."

Ginny felt like a Muggle car breaking sharply before a red lantern.

"W – what?"

"The second thing," repeated Harry. "You were going to tell me three things this morning?"

"Oh," said Ginny, comprehension dawning. "Right."

"No," she said.

"You don't want to tell me anymore?"

"No, I am telling you: no."

Harry frowned. "No what?"

"No, Harry, I didn't send you that Valentine."

Ginny continued to stare at him in almost the exactly the way she had on the night of the Guy Fawkes Ball, except that this time she seemed to be able to speak which was better than Harry could do himself at the moment.

"Do I strike you as the type of person who would want to make a fool of myself in front of a large number of people?" asked Ginny in a tone that suggested to Harry she'd been meaning to tell him this for years.

"N – no," said Harry, suddenly feeling very foolish indeed. "Not really."

"That was the most embarrassing moment – "

Ginny stopped and put her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. Then she and Harry smirked, and before too long, had started to laugh. Harry sounded as though he was just learning to laugh for the first time. This was too much for the two second-year girls who, apparently convinced that all of their nasty suspicions about Harry and Ginny were true, finally decided to join their friends outside on the lawn.

"Well," said Harry after they had finished. "I suppose you get another point in Wizard Truth. Perhaps we should go on with the game."

He smiled up at Ginny, convinced that at least one burden seemed to have left him, however small. Ginny had gotten over her crush on him. The Ginny he'd known when he was younger would have never been able to talk about that Valentine so openly, not to mention face him down about Sirius.

So immersed was Harry in his own relief that he almost didn't notice when Ginny began to talk again.

"Harry," she said earnestly, her smile fading quickly. "Th – there is one other thing I wanted to tell you."

Harry also grew serious again. "I – is this about Voldemort, I mean, about your dream?"

Ginny shook her head. Her feelings were finally getting the better of her and for the first time that morning, she found she could no longer look Harry straight in the eye. She could feel the warmth rise in her cheeks. She tried to breathe normally but found she couldn't take in enough air to feed her rapidly pounding heart.

"It's just that – " Ginny paused, swallowed and then looked steadily at Snitch and said:

"I – I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time, Harry. You really deserved to know. B – but I – it – I just couldn't. It was just so much easier not to say anything, day after day, to keep putting things off, but I just can't go on like this anymore."

"Ginny?"

Ginny started fidgeting with her hands.

"Harry, I never meant to trick you, I really thought I was over – but - I – I – I – that is, I still have f – "

Ginny forced her hands apart as if reaching the final of final decisions. She forced her head up to Harry's, her face still flushed with feeling, but her eyes determined and calm.

"Oh, Harry, don't you know that I'm in – "

The portrait hole swung open loudly and Ron and Hermione walked quickly into the common room covered from head to toe in an assortment of crushed Honeydukes' sweets.

Ginny and Harry both looked up.

"What happened to you?" asked Harry, not noticing that Ginny was desperately trying to catch her breath. "Halloween isn't for another few months."

But neither Hermione nor Ron were smiling.

"Harry, we have to get you out of here," declared Hermione seriously as a stray piece of Chocolate Frog wandered down her chin.

"Why? What's going on?"

Ron launched into a semi-complete account of their experience in the cellar at Honeydukes including their meeting with Dobby.

"B – But I can't just leave here now," protested Harry. "Just on Dobby's word. I mean what if he's wrong? Snape said to stay in the castle. If I go out there, I might be killed."

Ron and Hermione exchanged uncertain glances. It was obvious to Harry that in their haste neither had seriously considered that Dobby might have been misinformed.

Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny then looked at each other for a few more moments, clearly uncertain how to proceed. Then Harry said:

"I know. I'll fetch the Marauder's Map. It's bound to be on there."

Ron nodded and Harry left quickly up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, fished the map out from the top of the wardrobe where he had kept it hidden since the previous summer, and returned to the common room, noting in passing that someone had finally scourgified Hermione and Ron of their sticky sweets.

Harry unfolded the map on the Wizard Chess table and Hermione, Ginny, and Ron looked over his shoulder.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" said Harry, pointing his wand at the map.

Lines started to appear on what had only moments before been a blank piece of parchment. As the castle was almost completely empty, there was little to see on the map: Professor Dibble was still in her office, though none of them suggested going to her; Justin Finch-Fetchley and Cho Chang's names seem to be smudged on top of each other on the Astronomy Tower; Filch was roaming the corridors; and a few students strayed in the halls. Then Ron drew in a breath and pointed to a spot near the bottom of the map:

"Look!" he said.

The four Gryffindors studied the map to see that Draco Malfoy was walking briskly past the Potions room and down an unmarked set of steps before vanishing off the map. Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione and could see that they were all thinking the same thing but it was Ginny who said:

"That staircase leads down to the original room."

Harry slowly folded up the map and looked up at the others.

"OK," he said. "Suppose we go. Then what?"

"The house elves are bringing Winky to the cellar of Honeydukes," explained Hermione. "We told them we'd meet them back there with you. Then she's going to tell us the whole story."

"The cellar of Honeydukes?" said Harry. He licked his lips. "Right. Let's go then. But we'll take the passageway. Come on."

And without another word, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny left the common room and walked quickly down the staircase and out into the deserted corridor, their eyes darting back and forth for any signs of danger. Harry kept one eye on the Marauder's Map which he had unfolded in his hands and another on the corridor ahead of him. Finally, they reached the statue of the one-eyed witch.

"Dissendium," said Harry, tapping the statue with his wand.

The statue's hump opened and Hermione went in first, followed by Harry. Ron looked back and frowned when he saw that Ginny was heading in after them without hesitation. He wanted to call her back, to prevent her following them into whatever danger they were heading, but with an unsatisfied frown, he realized that staying in the castle could hardly be a guarantee of safety. He let her go first and then followed after and closed the statue's hump behind him.

* * *

The house elves parted as a door in the floor of the cellar at Honeydukes opened. Hermione was the first out. She took out her wand and quickly took in her surroundings.

"Lumos!" she said.

Her wand light shone right on Dobby who immediately squealed in fright.

"Hermione Granger," he whined. "Did you find him? Is he – "

As if in response, Harry pulled himself out of the trap door, followed closely by Ginny and Ron.

"Harry Potter is safe!"

For a moment, Hermione was certain Dobby was going to dance on the spot.

"Dobby," she said urgently. "Has anyone else been down here?"

"Oh, yes," replied Dobby, with the cautiousness of one who has something very unpleasant to reveal. "The proprietor. He was most – displeased." Dobby frowned.

Ron gulped.

Hermione turned to him. "We'll worry about it later. Did he see you, Dobby?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby is not a servant of Honeydukes. Dobby hid."

"We'd better get out of here before he comes back," said Ron, ignoring the confused looks on Harry and Ginny's faces.

Dobby grabbed hold of his arm. "But Winky is here, sir! Dobby will show sir the way."

Dobby tugged on Ron's arm and led him back to a dark corner of the cellar and another door. Dobby flicked his wrist and the catch of the door snapped open. They entered a small room with such a low ceiling that Ron and Harry had to keep their necks bent at all times. And there in the corner of the cellar, held in place by two burly-looking house elves with horribly scrunched up faces, was Winky.

Winky looked considerably different from the proud and defiant house elf that had stood in front of Ginny and her friends when they had first tried to enter the kitchens. Her eyes were puffy with tears and her once impeccably clean Hogwarts apron was now as stained and dirty as that of the other house elves. The burly elves released her only as long as it took to wipe her tears and blow her nose loudly in the apron.

As soon as she saw Harry, though, a half-smile blossomed on her lips. "Harry Potter," she said, in a quivering, feeble voice. "S – so good to see you safe, sir. Winky never meant Harry Potter harm, sir. Winky knows how Harry Potter was always good to Winky."

"Winky is lying!" spat Dobby. "Winky tried to get Harry Potter killed! Winky is a disgrace, a shame to all house elves!"

Winky wailed so loudly Ron was certain Tobias Whitherstripe would be down any moment.

"Winky is a good house-elf! Winky was only trying to serve her masters! Winky couldn't stop – Winky thought – Winky must have a Butterbeer! Dobby is too cruel!" She struggled against her two captors who continued to hold her forcefully. "Dobby will give Winky a Butterbeer! Dobby is too cruel, Winky must have it! Winky – "

"Winky deserves nothing!" shrilled Dobby, his ears turning to point like twin guns at his fellow house-elf. "And Winky will have nothing!"

This was more than Hermione could take.

"No, Dobby, stop them holding her like that! And no, Winky, you can't have a Butterbeer."

Dobby looked up at her, confusion and contradiction written over his face.

"But surely Hermione Granger is angry with Winky? Winky helped those who want to kill Harry Potter."

"No, Dobby. Can't you see she's been used? Winky," Hermione said, looking mercifully at the house-elf who could not bear to look back at her. "Tell us. Tell us what happened."

Winky tugged her hands roughly out of the grasp of the two house-elves. She opened her mouth to speak but before she had even uttered one word, she broke into hysterical tears again and covered her face in her apron, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose loudly several times. Dobby watched her with an expression of complete contempt but Hermione continued to wait patiently.

"I – It was young master Malfoy," Winky finally managed to croak.

"Draco?" said Ron.

Winky nodded and wiped her nose again.

Ron and Harry exchanged an all-knowing look.

"H – He came to me," said Winky. "Last year. H – he told me that Master Crouch w – would be ashamed of me if he knew wh – where I was and what I was doing, h – how I was working for pay and talking about house-elf rights. He said I had let M – master Crouch down. B – but if I was a good elf, m – m – maybe Master Malfoy's family could take me in."

"Winky, you know he was just cheating you!" said Hermione.

Winky shook her head and wiped away another tear. "Winky did not know, Hermione Granger. A – and Winky had never been happy since she left Master Crouch."

Winky broke into a fresh round of sobs. Ron and Harry looked impatient but Hermione just waited for her to stop.

"A – and Master Malfoy gave Winky this nice clean apron and many like it."

"Hang on a minute," said Ron. "Doesn't that mean he was giving you clothes?"

Winky shook her head and more tears started to fall. "W – Winky is not a slave, sir. Winky works for pay now. Oh, the shame, the shame!" Winky covered her face in her arms.

"The shame is not working for pay, Winky!" cried Dobby. "The shame is cheating on Harry Potter!"

Winky turned to look at Dobby, a faintly defensive expression in her eyes. "Winky did not know Master Malfoy was trying to kill Harry Potter. At first, he told her that Dumbledore was getting old, and sick. That is why he is giving the house elves pay, he said. He said the real master at Hogwarts should be his father, since his father is on the board."

Ron snorted.

"His father used to be on the board, Winky," said Hermione as gently as she could. "But he was thrown off years ago and now he's escaped from Azkaban."

Winky looked up at Hermione mournfully.

"But Winky did not know this either, Hermione Granger, not, at least until much later. Master Draco said that Master Lucius Malfoy would put things back the way they should be and Winky thought this sounded very reasonable because house elves shouldn't be free and shouldn't be paid!"

Dobby opened his mouth to protest but Hermione said:

"Go on, Winky. What happened next?"

"He told Winky to pretend to be following Dumbledore's orders. He knew it was Winky who cleaned the headmaster's office. He told Winky to listen to whatever went on there. And Winky did listen. And Winky heard and found out where they were going to hide Harry Potter and then – and then Winky told Master Draco."

"Winky knew!" shouted Dobby. "Winky knew they were trying to kill Harry Potter even then!"

"No!" said Winky, growing more defiant. "Winky did not know, not then. Master Draco told Winky that Harry Potter had to be captured, that Dumbledore had twisted his reason, that he had to be made to see sense! And then, Master Draco gave Winky more aprons and even a little money. He told Winky to play along with S.P.E.W., to tell all the house elves that Winky was the greatest supporter of Hermione Granger and her cause. He just asked Winky to help clean the original room. He told Winky it was being used for the board meetings."

"But Winky must have known," protested Dobby. "Winky must have known they was Dark Wizard's things she was cleaning!"

Winky started to sob again. "Y – yes, it is, true, sir, Winky admits it. But Winky had gotten used to the aprons, and the money, and the privilege. Oh, Winky is so ashamed! But Winky still did not know they wanted to kill Harry Potter! No!" she added quickly before anyone could interject. "Winky only found out last night. Winky heard the two Masters Malfoy talking. Winky knew she had been tricked, that she had been lied to, that Dumbledore wasn't old and crazy and that the Masters Malfoy were horrible dark wizards!"

"Winky should have listened to Dobby! Dobby told Winky years ago!" protested Dobby.

"But Winky did not think Dobby is making sense. Dobby is just a runaway elf but Master Draco is clever and reasonable, or Winky thought he was."

Before Dobby could muster another retort, Harry stepped forward anxiously and said:

"What were their plans, Winky? What did they say they were going to do?"

"They is waiting in the original room, sir. They is setting a trap for Harry Potter. They is going to wait until no one is in the castle except Harry Potter and the very young ones who won't be able to help him. Then they is going to kill him. But they won't be able to now, sir," said Winky, a little more brightly. "Winky confessed to Dobby. Winky saved Harry Potter!"

"And then Winky tried to run away!" cried Dobby.

"Winky was scared. Winky didn't know how to show her face again. Winky – "

"Winky is a coward!" cried Dobby.

"Look, it's over, now, all right?" said Harry. "Dobby, we've got to get you and Winky to safety."

"Winky – to safety, sir?" Dobby asked incredulously.

"Yes! Don't you see? If they find out she's missing, they'll kill her! Winky, get back to the original room."

Winky whimpered.

"It's the only way," said Harry urgently. "Otherwise they'll know something's wrong. Dobby, take the rest of the house elves and hide."

"Hide where, sir?"

"Anywhere, just stay away from that room and from the kitchens."

Dobby nodded and turned with Winky to leave, trailed reluctantly by the two burly elves, whom Harry had the sudden impression were elfin bounty hunters.

Harry turned to Ginny, Hermione, and Ron.

"We've got to think of a plan."

"Send Dumbledore an owl," said Hermione like it was a mantra.

"No."

It was Ginny who spoke, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to turn around in surprise.

"You never should have sent any owls to Dumbledore! It was too dangerous then and it's certainly too dangerous now. We've got to find another way to get Harry out of here!" Ginny took out her wand and flicked it through the air without hesitation. "Apparecium Cartus!"

Ron seemed on the point of saying something but before he could so a glowing display of yellow lines materialized into the air in front of them. At first they seemed to only dazzle but then, as Harry looked more closely, he noticed something familiar about them and realized that it was a map of Hogsmeade. But it covered more than the village itself: there were a few trails leading back to the school and many more others that seemed to snake haphazardly out of Hogsmeade and into and through the Forbidden Forest.

Ron stared at the map, his brown eyes wide.

"Wh – wh – where did you learn that spell?"

"Me, Amanda, and Colin used it to get out of the castle and explore the forest our second year," she said vacantly.

"Y – you what?" croaked Ron.

"I know," replied Ginny. "We took a year longer than you."

Hermione studied the map closely, clearly impressed. "Is this like the Marauder's Map, Ginny? Does it tell us where people are?"

Ginny shook her head. "Just the landscape. But it will give us an idea of how to get Harry out of here. I think we'll have to go on foot. Any other way will be too risky. We have to – "

"Just a minute," said Ron, his eyes darting back and forth from the map to Ginny with the air of someone about to burst. "Let's get one thing straight. You're not going anywhere! You're going to find somewhere safe and hide!"

Ginny put her hands on her hips and stared up at her brother, equal to the challenge. "And what are you going to do?"

"We're going to take care of Harry and keep him safe," said Ron matter-of-factly.

"And why is you get to rescue Harry and I don't?"

Ron looked back at Ginny as if she'd asked him why the sky was blue. "B – because that's what we've always done. Harry's our friend."

"So he's your friend and not mine?" asked Ginny, her voice rising dangerously.

"I – I – no, I didn't mean that. It's just – " Ron seemed at a loss for words.

Hermione stepped forward. "Ginny," she said gently. "It's not a matter of who's Harry's friend and who's not. Ron, Harry, and I have faced a lot of things together already, and we're a year older, and just that much better trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you come with us, it'll be much harder to keep both you and Harry safe. Do you want that?"

But if Hermione thought Ginny could be mollified, she was very much mistaken.

"Better trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts? I don't think I was the one who got myself knocked out in the Department of Mysteries – "

"That could have – "

"Or attacked by a killer brain!" Ginny added, rounding on Ron.

But Ron turned just as red as his sister. "I promised Mum I'd look after you. I promised her the day we left that nothing would happen to you! You don't know; you weren't there when Riddle took you! I've never seen her look like that; it was horrible and I'll never let her go through it again!"

Harry was certain Ginny was going to explode. But he also knew that Ron was out of ammunition and he was certain he wasn't going to let Ginny get hurt.

"Look, Ginny – " he said, walking forward.

But that was as far as he got.

"You too, Harry?" she said with an extremely dangerous smile. "You've no need to finish. Allow me. You want your friends to be safe, don't you? You'd hate for anyone to suffer because of you?"

"Well, yeah, I – "

"WELL IT'S TOO BLOODY LATE FOR THAT, HARRY JAMES POTTER! Do you know what it's like? Do you know what it's like every time you go away? When you disappeared the night of the Triwizard Tournament? When you didn't show up on the train this year? Do you know how black I felt inside?"

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Tears poured down Ginny's face. "I told you I wanted to face him with you and now you just want me to walk away like I don't care and it isn't my fight? I thought you understood! Fine, I'll leave. I'll go somewhere safe. And even if you're killed, your best friend will still have his little sister. And she'll walk and eat and look just like me. But she won't be at all because I will have already died on the inside!"

Ginny turned on her heel and marched out of the door to walk back up the steps and out to the main floor of Honeydukes and a no doubt bewildered and displeased Tobias Whitherstripe. But before she left, she turned around to look at Harry for the briefest of moments, tears streaming down her face, with such an expression of confusion and hurt that Harry sank to his knees on the floor as surely as if she'd just hexed him. All the while that Ginny had argued with them, Harry had tried to think desperately of how they could make her leave and keep her safe. Now he found he would have given anything the find the words to bring her back, but he also knew that there were no words to describe what he was feeling after what he had heard her say.

"You know, Hermione," said Ron, after a few moments of shocked silence, his voice strangely high-pitched. "I don't think you were quite right about her getting over that crush thing after all. N – never mind. She's safe now. We'll have to deal with it later." He swallowed and his voice returned to a normal register. "We've got to get Harry to safety."

Hermione started to say something in response but Harry could no longer hear her. Both Ron and Hermione suddenly sounded as if they were talking from behind a pane of glass. There was a loud thumping sound in Harry's ears that he vaguely realized was the sound of large quantities of blood being furiously pounded into his head. Of all of the burdens he had carried around in his mind this past year, he was certain that one he had just been handed by Ginny was the greatest of all. Harry was sure in that moment that he would never be able to so much as stand up again.

It seemed hardly real than just an hour ago he had managed to convince himself that Ginny had gotten over her crush just because she could talk to him without sticking her elbow in a proverbial butter dish. Now crush seemed a woefully inadequate way to describe what Ginny had been feeling. It was obvious she was in love with him. Harry didn't know why; he wasn't even sure he knew what that meant. All he knew was that she had suffered for years because of him. That whenever he'd gone and nearly died (and how many times was that now?), she'd stewed inside, never telling anyone, much less him. And how had he treated her? He'd never been unkind to Ginny. But Harry realized that his lukewarm behavior to her all these years - the way he had forgotten so easily that she'd been possessed by Tom Riddle; the way he'd always ignored her silence, afraid to confront the reason behind it; the way he'd always tried to save her from outside perils but never from inner demons - all these had been the worst sort of medicine of all for what was ailing Ginny. If he'd loved her, she might have been happy; if he'd hated her, then at least her love might have died. But as it was, he had always kept Ginny's feelings burning without ever fulfilling them.

Harry was now certain of only one thing. This was not how the story was going to end.

He stood up.

"I'm going after her," he declared.

Ron, who had apparently been in the middle of saying something, turned around in surprise, as did Hermione.

"Who?" he asked.

"Ginny!"

"What?"

"Harry." Hermione stepped forward, looking very anxious. "I – I'm pleased that you care about Ginny – "

Ron looked extremely bewildered.

" – but you've got to stay with us. It's not Ginny Voldemort's after. It's you."

Harry looked at Hermione for a moment. Then another horrible truth began to sink in.

"But it is," he said quietly.

"Wh – what did you say?" asked Ron.

Harry forced himself to look up at Ron.

"Voldemort's been giving her nightmares all year. He wanted her to give me to him. He's trying to use her!"

"Wh – what makes you think that?" asked Ron in a tone of voice that suggested to Harry he didn't really want to know the answer.

"She told me. The night she had the nightmare, before her Potions O.W.L. I had it, too; I could see Voldemort inside her head."

Harry's friends looked even worse than he had feared on hearing this news. Ron looked speechless while at least Hermione managed a small gasp.

"B – but, Harry, why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I did. We did. We went to see McGonagall together not that it did much good. I – I'm sorry."

There was a long, long moment of silence. Ron's face which had only before been a deep shade of red from shouting at his sister had now gone completely white. Hermione looked as surprised as Harry had ever seen her. Finally, Ron opened his mouth in what seemed like slow motion.

"You're – sorry?" he said incredulously.

Harry nodded dumbly.

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times again before finally saying in a horribly emotion-cracked voice.

"I just want to know one thing, Harry. Why? Why didn't you tell me? She's my little sister!"

"Because she told me not to," Harry said flatly.

"And you listened to her? And not me? Harry, we've been friends for six years!"

"She didn't want you to know," said Harry, a little more assertively. "I respected her feelings."

"You – respected – her - ? Harry, he took her into the Chamber of Secrets. Did you forget that? Goddess knows what he's done to her this time. How can she be in a position to tell you - "

Harry suddenly didn't feel so sorry for Ron. He felt a curious anger rise inside him.

"Maybe if you would listen to her! Maybe if she knew you'd respect her feelings and her choice!"

Ron looked back at Harry in disbelief. "How dare you?" he hissed. "How dare you put this back on me. You – "

Hermione stepped quickly in between Harry and Ron, her eyes darting from one to the other in desperation.

"Look, just stop it! We haven't got time for this! I'll go and find Ginny. Ron, you stay here with Harry. And try not to kill each other."

Harry stepped back. "No!" he declared. "This is my fault. I'll go and find Ginny."

"Are you mad?" barked Ron. "That's exactly what You-Know-Who wants, the two of you together! Let Hermione go. Then we'll get out of this together!"

"No," repeated Harry firmly. "Voldemort isn't after you! He's after me! And whatever he wants with Ginny, it's because of me, too. I'm going to find her. I'm going to get her out of here!"

"Harry, why?" Hermione demanded, her eyes filling with tears. "Voldemort might not be after us but we're your friends! We've always faced things together!"

Ron nodded. "You're my best mate, Harry. Despite everything that's happened this morning. And I'm not going to leave you, not even if you want me to!"

Harry stepped back from Ron and Hermione, his eyes filling up with hurt.

"Do you think I don't want you as my friends?" he said desperately. "I'm doing this for you! Cedric came with me; look how he ended up! Sirius wanted to rescue me; look what happened to him! No, I'm not having anymore! No one else dies because of me!"

Hermione looked up at Harry and said gently but firmly:

"I'm sorry, Harry, but Ginny was right about one thing: it's too late for that now. You can't stop us. It's our choice."

Harry looked between Hermione and Ron and for a moment he thought he might just give in but the horrible look of surprise on Sirius' face as he fell back through the veil flew horribly into his mind, only this time it was Ron and Hermione falling, there were flashes of green light, and a horrible high chilling voice.

"No!" Harry cried. He took a step back from Ron and Hermione, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the Space Catcher.

Ron frowned. "What's that?" he said.

But Hermione obviously recognized the Space Catcher for what it was.

"No, Harry, don't!" she cried. Her arm lunged forward.

Harry squeezed hard on the Space Catcher. For a moment, Hermione's arm was coming closer and closer but then Harry felt himself pulling away, a tugging sensation jolting at his hip, a lot like travel by portkey but much, much rougher. And then Hermione, Ron, and the dusty cellar of Honeydukes vanished before his eyes.


	21. The Final Siege

Chapter 21

The Final Siege

"Quiet yourself, Wormtail," came Voldemort's snake-like hiss.

The Death Eater to his left forced himself to stop moving. He looked down at the table at his hands and found that he still could not stop them trembling. He anxiously hid them behind his chair. He looked up and noticed that the other Death Eaters remained completely impassive.

"M – my Lord, I am sorry. B – but I fear for our plan. You said the girl has left Potter. Surely – "

"If it were not for your contributions to my continuing plans, Wormtail, I might have already grown tired of your lack of faith in the arrangements I have spent months carefully planning."

"N – not l – l – lack of faith, my Lord, I – "

"I am not interested in more of your excuses, Wormtail. I tire of them easily. Potter is very predictable. I think we can be quite certain that he will go to locate the girl and they will be together again very soon and since the other stages of our plans have now been prepared, we will be ready to find them immediately."

* * *

Harry balled his fists and clenched his eyes shut as he waited for the spinning dizziness in his head and body to subside. Then he opened them, stood up, staggered for a moment, and took in his surroundings.

He was sitting on a small wooden hill just behind the main street of Hogsmeade. Directly to his left was the Shrieking Shack and he could still see the roof of Honeydukes not far below him. Harry got to his feet, stumbled for a moment, and then broke into a run in the direction of the shack. He wasn't quite sure why he was going there but he knew he couldn't stay where he was. Ron and Hermione would surely start to look for him and he needed to put as much distance between them as possible.

But where would Ginny have gone? Harry realized as he rushed along the side of the woods, wincing as a stray twig slapped against his glasses, that he had no idea where to begin. Could she have hidden in Hogsmeade? Had she gone back to the school? Surely she couldn't be all that far away? How long had they stood there talking after she had left?

Harry continued to run, his feet sliding awkwardly on the steep hill as he made his way toward the shack. Unable as he was to answer the more crucial question of where Ginny was, his mind turned to the slightly more pressing but very much cogent question of why he was looking for her in the first place.

Of course, he would protect her, just like he always had. And this time he could not deceive himself. He knew. He knew because Tom Riddle had told him all those years ago. Voldemort only wanted Ginny because of him. And it was his responsibility to get her out. He knew he couldn't face it if anything happened to her.

Harry checked these thoughts over and over again as he finally reached the hill in front of the shack and bounded up toward it. Nothing he had said to himself was wrong but somehow the whole of his longing seemed more than the sum of his reasons. Ginny's screaming confession meant that there was a great deal of unfinished business between the two of them, though even as Harry thought this, he was not at all sure how he meant to deal with Ginny's feelings for him. As he ran into the shack, closed the door, and stood panting against the wall, the only thing it seemed he could remember was the sensation of surrendering himself into Ginny's embrace that morning, of her passion and love as she'd held him. Ron had told him to forget about the prophecy; Hermione had told him to prepare for it. But it was only Ginny who knew who he had really needed much better than Harry had realized himself at the time: someone to show him that while he had to shoulder his burdens, he didn't have to suffer them alone.

And all her hair and clothes had smelt of lavender. Harry wondered why he had never noticed it before.

And then as Harry stood there against the wall of the Shrieking Shack panting for breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and found he could smell not the dank decaying mold of the shack but the fragrant scent of the wildflower, a flower that had filled him with hope and calm all his life for reasons he did not know or could not remember. But whatever it was the smell had meant to him before, it now reminded him of Ginny, of her strength and determination, of her passion and her love, and of the enormous deep sea behind her soft brown eyes.

And then Harry realized. Whether it was her embrace, or her confession, he did not know. But he now knew one thing.

He did like Ginny. In fact, he could feel that he had liked her for some time but he had kept the feelings buried inside him.

But as soon as Harry realized this, another much less pleasant sensation seemed to seize hold of his stomach. In spite of the cramped heat of the shack, the horrible icy feeling was returning again and this time it seemed to spread from his gut all throughout his body. His legs felt numb. He was sure once again that he wouldn't be able to move.

And then Harry found himself gripped with an unpleasant memory. Of Professor Nevins. Of his frightened face as he'd stared at the Boggart that had taken the shape of his father as James' lifeless eyes had stared accusingly down at him. And then Harry knew why his Boggart had taken the form of Ginny. Not really Ginny at all, though. He had known that the night he had watched Ginny as she studied. He had seen how different she looked from her Boggart impersonator but he had not recognized the difference for what it was.

The Ginny in the common room was alive, but the Boggart was dead, just like his father. And it had accused him, just as the Boggart James had accused Nevins. And as the horrible icy sensation finally spread to Harry's head and a cold sweat broke out over his face, Harry realized his greatest fear: that if he accepted Ginny's feelings, then she would die, just like everyone who had ever loved Harry before.

For the second time in an hour, Harry found that his legs could no longer support him. Tears coursing down his cheeks, Harry realized that his worst fear was going to come true. Voldemort would go after Ginny just like he had before. He would enter her mind and find her. But Harry had no idea where she was. And there was no way that he could find out.

But as Harry's legs finally gave way and he sank to the floor, he felt something press against his side from where it lay folded in his pocket, forgotten. His eyes suddenly springing to life, Harry hastily took the Marauder's Map out of his pocket and unfolded it. But surely she wouldn't have gone back to the castle? Still, it was worth a look. If there was any chance….

And there she was. But when Harry finally found out where he didn't know whether to feel surprise or relief. It couldn't really be, could it? But like Professor Lupin before him, Harry knew that however strange the truth, the Marauder's Map did not lie.

Harry quickly folded the map up again and put it back into his pocket. He then got up and looked around the shack. He thought of making for the passageway but then decided against it. He might not be seen but down in the tunnel he could easily be ambushed. If only he had taken the Invisibility Cloak!

Harry drew out his wand and rushed to the main door of the Shack. He flung it open and bounded down the hill back onto the main path to Hogwarts, noting with apprehension how uncomfortably quiet it seemed. His eyes darting back and forth, Harry ran back up the main path toward the school, trying to stay alert for any signs of an attack. The path ahead of him was quiet, however, and Harry could soon see the castle ahead. He tore into an even faster sprint, thinking only of how he must get there, how he must reach Ginny before it was too late, of what it would mean if she died before he ever really showed her how he felt. Nothing else mattered now.

The castle never seemed so far away as it did now, but finally Harry approached the main doors. Ignoring the stitch in his side, Harry tore open the door and ran down the strangely deserted main corridor, made a right turn, and pushed open a door with a bang.

* * *

Voldemort let out a satisfied sigh as his fingers moved away from the top of the diary.

"You can relax now, Wormtail," he hissed. "They are together again. The first floor bathroom."

A chilling smile broke over the Dark Lord's hideously chapped lips.

"Fetch them," he said.

The Death Eaters to his immediate right got up and walked methodically toward the door….

* * *

Ginny gasped as the door to the bathroom banged open and Harry ran in, clutching his side in pain. She sniffed and wiped absently at a tear falling down her left cheek. In truth, Ginny had been fantasizing about Harry doing exactly this only moments before but as always with these sorts of fantasies, one rarely expects they will actually happen.

The next thing that happened proved just as unexpected. Harry had no sooner started to move toward Ginny when an apparition flew out of nowhere and stopped directly in his path.

"Oh, you should see her," said Moaning Myrtle. "She's in a right mess. She's been crying and crying and crying."

Ginny could see Harry's face tense in annoyance. He tried to dart past Myrtle but she moved to block his way again.

"Come on, Harry, you don't want a crybaby girlfriend, do you?"

"Shut up, Myrtle."

Myrtle looked as if she was restraining herself from crying with great difficulty.

"'Shut up, Myrtle,'" she hissed. "Is that all you can say to me? You-Know-Who is here now, in the castle!" She clasped her hands together in obvious delight. "You might want me to shut up now, but by the afternoon you'll be singing a different tune when we're sharing the same toilet. Why take her when you – "

"Spiritem Exhume!"

Myrtle's face creased in shock as she vaulted back into the s-bend of the nearest toilet.

Harry pocketed his wand and quickly ran over to join Ginny at the foot of the sink. She sat there holding her knees against her chest, her body looking for all the world like it wanted to disappear, but her eyes still staring up at his in surprise. A thin beam of light shone from the sun through the rose window at the back and fell gently through Ginny's hair. She looked to Harry like an angel on fire.

"Ginny," Harry finally said between pants. "What are you doing here? Why on earth would you ever come back to this place?"

"The Chamber's been sealed, Harry," remarked Ginny, noticing how quiet her voice sounded.

"But – but why would you make yourself remember? How could you ever – "

"Because no one would ever think to look for me here, Harry. I used to come here all the time, my second and third years, when I needed to be alone. A – and besides, Harry." Ginny quickly became interested in the progress of an ant on the floor. "This isn't such a horrible place. This is where you brought me back after you rescued me."

Ginny sat up in surprise as Harry took her hands in his.

"Ginny," he said in a voice that had only ever spoken so softly to her in her dreams. "You wanted to tell me three things this morning. I'm afraid we never got to the third one."

"Harry," Ginny said suddenly. "What are you doing here? You can't come back to the castle! It's not safe! You shouldn't have come after me."

"No, Ginny, listen to me. I – "

But Ginny shook her head and started talking again.

"Harry, didn't you hear what Myrtle said? And Winky? Don't you know that – "

"No, look, listen, Ginny, I don't care – "

"Oh, Harry, I was so selfish. I never should have said those things to you and I never should have tried to stay, not when I knew he was trying to use me to get to you. But why did you come after me? You have to go now. You-Know-Who – "

"I don't care about Voldemort. I care about you."

There was a sudden deadening silence. As she and Harry stared at each other, Ginny had the funny sensation that all time had stopped still. Several seconds passed before Ginny was aware of an uncomfortable sensation in her throat and realized she had forgotten to breathe.

And before Ginny could think another thought, Harry rubbed her hands gently and she was shocked to realize that his were cold and trembling. She immediately reciprocated.

"Ginny," he said, still staring straight into her eyes. "Please tell me."

Ginny started to speak but the sound caught in her throat. She looked back at Harry and found herself rooted to his emerald eyes, never before so close, never looking at her as they did now. She tried to speak again but now it seemed harder than ever. She felt herself seethe with embarrassment and self-contempt. Why couldn't she tell him? He was begging her to tell him. She couldn't think past the moment to wonder why but he was. It should be so easy but it just wasn't.

"H – Harry," she finally said, aware that her voice was shaking. "Y – you better go. W - we'll still be here tomorrow at this rate."

Harry smiled.

"I can't think of anything else I'd like better."

Harry's hands seemed to tremble even harder as they moved to Ginny's shoulders and held them tightly.

And then Ginny remembered. She remembered when she first knew she loved Harry, not when she'd been infatuated, not when she'd had a shy crush, but when she had really loved him. The time she had woken in the Chamber after all of her horrors and seen him, grimy and bloody, standing over her. How he had grasped hold of her shoulders in just the same way and lifted her, however awkwardly, to her feet. How he had carried her away. How he had only wanted to rescue her, not to ask any questions, not to scold her or criticize her. How he had thought nothing of himself, how he had almost died for her. How he had carried her away from all of her fears and nightmares as surely as if he had taken her out of the Chamber itself.

And then Ginny opened her mouth and as though she was learning to speak for the very first time, looked at Harry and said:

"I love you, Harry. I've always loved you."

As soon as the words had left her lips, Ginny felt fresh tears run down her cheeks. She sobbed so hard she thought she would choke. All the catharsis of years of feelings unsaid seemed to pour out through her tears like water from a broken dam.

Harry watched her cry just as he had that day at the Three Broomsticks, just as he had when Cho had wept over Cedric. He had not known what to say or do then. But now it seemed suddenly obvious. He spread out his hands and slowly rubbed the tears away from Ginny's cheeks. He let his fingers glide through her hair and then run down her shoulders as he eased her body gently into his arms.

They sat that way for a very long time. When Harry finally released Ginny, she found that his face, too, was wet.

"I was so afraid, Ginny," he croaked, his voice shockingly vulnerable. "I thought I would never find you again. That you'd never be able to tell me. That I'd never – that all – "

Harry stopped talking. He reached his hand behind Ginny's head and gently pulled her toward him again. Ginny moved to his shoulder, wanting to drown in the warmth of his embrace again, but Harry tugged at the side of her cheek and pulled her head toward his.

And then Ginny realized. He was going to kiss her.

Her teeth started to chatter and her body shook, no longer sure it could bear the flood of sense and emotion that was to come. She had thought so many times of how it would feel to finally kiss Harry; she had lived a dozen different moments in a hundred different daydreams but now as Harry finally moved toward her and she could feel his warm hurried breath on her lips, Ginny thought of none of those dreams. For once, she knew only the moment she was living in now.

And then Harry's lips touched hers and the trembling subsided. Their tongues touched awkwardly but softly, a sensation unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Ginny let out a moan of joy and pulled Harry closer and then cried once again when she felt him return her passion. She had the sudden strange feeling that for the first time in her life she was truly being loved, not smothered or babysat, not desired or used, but loved. Ginny felt that with every twist of his lips Harry was taking out all of the pain, fear, and hurt that had grown inside her like he was sucking out poison from beneath a deep wound.

And even as they finally moved apart, Ginny could still feel the sensation of Harry's kiss linger on. Her face burned so warmly her skin tingled. She felt a tremendous energy rushing like a river through her body and even though her eyes were still half-blurred with tears, the world around her suddenly seemed much sharper and richer than it had a moment before. Ginny felt as though she was seeing in color for the first time the textures of things she had barely started to grasp in her dreams.

Harry's right hand continued to stroke Ginny's soft red locks while his left massaged the tears away from her cheek again. He looked at her with an expression of contented disbelief, if such a thing was possible. Ginny took Harry's glasses away and wiped his own tears, then allowed her fingers to run through his hair and gently trace the scar on his forehead.

And then, because her love for Harry was much more than a touch or a kiss, Ginny opened her mouth and said as softly as she could:

"Harry, you have to leave now. I know you know it. It's just not safe here."

Harry's face twisted into a frown. "Ginny, no, I – "

"Harry," said Ginny persistently. "Voldemort wants to find you and kill you. A – and he wants to use me to do it. We have to face this."

"No, Ginny. It's only because of me that he wants you. I'm taking you with me. I'm not going to let him hurt you again."

Fresh tears sprung down Ginny's cheeks. She clasped Harry's hands together in hers.

"Harry, no," she sobbed. "You came in here and showed me how you really felt. If I die today, it will still be the happiest day of my life. We're together now no matter what happens. He can't really keep us apart. But you have to go; you have to find Ron and Hermione and get as far away from here as possible."

But Harry was already shaking his head even before Ginny had finished talking.

"I'll run but I'm taking you with me."

"He'll find me, Harry. He always – "

The door to the bathroom opened. Ginny instinctively let go of Harry's hands and they moved away from each other. They looked up nervously to see who was entering, bracing themselves for the worst. And neither felt very much relieved when Ron and Hermione walked in.

Ron walked over to Harry and Ginny with his arms folded. His face and hair were of matching color. He did not smile.

Hermione stood a little apart from Ron, her eyes darting back and forth between him and Harry nervously.

"H – how did you find us?" Harry finally said, looking from Ron to Hermione in surprise.

Ron didn't reply for a moment then slowly drew the Marauder's Map out of his pocket. Harry's hand instinctively flew to his pocket to confirm the obvious truth that the map was no longer there.

"You dropped this on the way back to the castle," Ron said, his voice lingering unnaturally over every syllable. "Apparently you didn't notice. I suppose you were a little preoccupied." He looked meaningfully at Ginny.

Harry was considering a number of defensive remarks when he noticed out of his peripheral vision that Hermione was moving further behind Ron so that only Harry and Ginny could see her. Ever more anxiously, she looked back at Harry and pointed her finger to the corner of her lips. With a dawning sense of dread, Harry wiped the same corner of his own mouth and found the stain of Ginny's strawberry-colored Muggle lipstick come away in his hand.

"So," said Ron richly. "Pardon me for interrupting, anyway. I've been trying to save your life. Apparently you were too busy snogging my sister!"

Harry and Ginny both stood up.

"Ron, stop it!" Ginny demanded.

But Ron looked like he had only just begun.

"Apparently you don't realize this, Harry, but I wanted the two of you to get together. That's what I told you, remember?" he said, his face creasing. "You could have just been open about it. But no, you had to keep to yourselves, just like you always do."

Harry put his hand up. "It's not like that! I – I only just – I didn't realize until – "

But Ron didn't seem to be listening.

"And I don't mind if you keep secrets together either but I do object when it puts my sister's life in danger! Not to mention yours!"

"I told you I respected – "

But Harry was quickly interrupted when Ginny sidled in front of him and drew herself up to her brother, her face just as set in rage as his was.

"I'm sorry to interrupt when you're so keen on talking about me as if I wasn't there but I don't think it's very fair for you to say that to Harry. I was the one who told him not to tell you about the dream!"

Ron turned to Ginny and if anything he looked even more piqued. "Really? I never would have guessed. I just wondered if you ever thought to question your own judgement?"

"That's an interesting idea. I wonder if it's worked its way into your head before."

"I mean the last time You-Know-Who possessed you, you didn't say anything for a bloody year and nearly got killed! And you haven't changed, have you? You did exactly the same thing again this time! It's all talk when it's somebody else but when it's you it's like someone has cast a silencing charm!"

"I don't have to answer to you!"

"You will if you have any sense but I can already see that you don't! And you!" Ron turned back to Harry before Ginny could mount a counter-attack. "I thought you could help bring her out, get her to actually tell the people who love her when she's in danger, but I should have known you're just as bad as she is!"

"Really?" said Harry. "I thought Ginny already had an over-protective brother."

"Look," said Hermione, in a business-like fashion. "I know you're all upset, but I think it's more important if we – "

"Can't you see you're making things worse for her, pushing her like this?" cried Harry again. "Is this what a family does? I'm glad I don't have one!"

Ron turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

"Maybe that's why you don't know what it's like to have someone look after you and save you from your own stupidity! And I'm not just talking about her! You know You-Know-Who wants the pair of you killed! And you're just making it easier!"

"We'd have left here by now if it wasn't for you!"

"Oh, you will be leaving here if it's the last thing I do but not together!"

"I'm not leaving her!"

"You will if you really care about her!" said Ron hotly. "Can't you get it into your bloody thick skull that you're not the one to rescue her this time? That the closer you are to her the more she's likely to get hurt?" He narrowed his eyes. "You know, Harry, I think Hermione was right about you," he said quickly. "You do have a 'saving people thing.' And you want to be the hero again. But if you don't get away from her now, you're going to get her and the rest of us killed just – "

Ron's voice trailed off. His face suddenly went from red to white. There was a sudden horrible silence in the bathroom then Harry took a step closer to his best friend.

"Go on," he said in a low haunting voice. "What's stopping you, mate?"

Ron opened his mouth again but sound did not find its way out.

"N – nothing, Harry, look, I – "

"JUST LIKE I KILLED SIRIUS, ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY?"

Ron took a step backward.

"You've got it wrong, mate," he said evenly. "I wasn't going to say anything about Sirius. But if we don't get out of here now – "

Before Harry knew what was happening, his right fist had swung toward Ron's left cheek. Ron's hand went up and parried the blow, however. He was about to swing his right fist back when Hermione stepped between them and, with surprising force, shoved them both away from each other.

"Just stop it! Both of you! NOW!"

No one was more surprised than Hermione, however, when she had the last word for at that precise moment, there came a deafening crash from somewhere very nearby.

Then the lights went out.

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron drew out their wands and moved cautiously toward the door of the bathroom, an unspoken foreboding ending their argument like a rush of cold water on open flame. Ron was first to the door. He pushed it open with his foot, and eased out into the corridor. After a moment's pause, he motioned the others to follow him.

The corridor was now eerily silent, absent the slightest echo of the thundering crash they had heard only moments before. Like the bathroom they had just left, however, the lanterns in the corridor were guiltless of light. Moreover, while the bathroom had still been lit through the light from the window, the corridor ahead of them was considerably darker.

Hermione nervously pointed her wand out in front of her.

"Lumos," she said.

Nothing happened.

Ron tried his next and then Harry and Ginny but the result was the same each time.

"What's going on?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," replied Harry.

"What's that sound?" asked Ginny.

Harry strained his ears to listen. It sounded like a low howling sound was coming up the corridor. A gust of wind blew up and ruffled Ginny's hair.

"It's the wind," said Harry. "And it's coming from down over here."

He pointed his wand back in the direction of the main entranceway he had burst through less than an hour before.

"Maybe someone left the main door open," said Hermione, but she did not sound very certain.

His wand outstretched, Harry headed briskly up the corridor into darkness, trailed closely by the others.

"Harry, be careful," said Hermione. "We can't see very well what's down there."

"It's getting lighter," Harry responded.

Indeed, as they walked more quickly toward the end of the corridor, they could see soft sunlight playing across the far wall. Ron, Harry, and Ginny each considered in their own minds what Hermione had said, but they also knew that the main door was windowless and very nearly always shut.

Harry reached the end of the hallway, turned the corner, and then stopped sharply causing Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to almost bump into him.

None of them spoke.

There could now be very little question what had caused the crash. Harry's immediate impression was that the gates of hell had opened up to swallow the one secure foundation left in his life, literally as well as figuratively. For where once had stood the main door to the school, there was now only a gaping hole that stretched up from the remains of the door to the second-story ceiling. Wind rushed in through the gap, blowing an assortment of leaves and dust out into the corridor. They could see clear through to the midday sun shining brightly on the peacefully swaying trees of the grounds and the rich lawn of green. It was almost grotesquely tranquil.

But as Harry looked more closely, even this image seemed strangely distorted, like someone had turned up the hue on a television too far to the right. As he started to walk up the corridor toward the remains of the door, followed now at a cautious distance by his friends, he could see that the stone slabs that had once lined the front of the building seemed to have been pushed roughly away by someone or something with enormous size and strength. There was something odd about this, too, though, apart from the obvious fact that their school was now missing a large chunk of what had once been its wall. It wasn't until they had reached the opening and looked out across the threshold of the gap to the school grounds beyond that Harry realized what it was: the slabs now lay strewn around the grass in front of the opening like the ruins of a stone circle. But that meant –

"The wall has been pushed out from the inside," said Hermione. "Whoever did this was already inside the castle."

None of the others responded. But they knew that what she had said was right even if they didn't know how or why. Harry squinted. The scene outside was still the wrong color, if that was possible. The green of the leaves and grass looked like it had been painted on. Harry was reminded of an unusually large storm that had once swept in from the sea and toppled the power lines on Privet Drive like matchsticks. Then as now sky and earth had looked strangely green.

Harry was struggling with how to convey his strange impressions to the others when a hand touched his shoulder. He looked down to see Ginny who pointed his head toward the sky. He looked around to see that Ron and Hermione were doing the same. Still, none of them spoke.

With a horrible knawing sense of dread, Harry looked up himself and beheld the single most horrifying display of magical power he had ever seen. The only thing he could compare to his terrified awe was the time he had first seen Hagrid stoke the fires of the Dursleys' shack on the sea with his umbrella and he had known without a doubt that there was such a thing as magic. But on that occasion Harry had been filled with the wonder of a new world open to his eyes for the very first time. Now he couldn't help but think that everything he loved and believed in was closing in around him.

For blanketing the sky around them was the grotesque snake-like face of the Dark Mark, higher and wider than any Harry had ever seen. The bleeding green glow seemed to stretch for miles over the forest and the mountains around them, capturing the horizon completely. But despite its size, Harry could see that the horrible face at the center of the mark was pointed directly at them. Whoever had cast the mark had done so from very near the point at which they now stood.

It was Ginny who broke the silence first.

"Where are all the people?" she asked.

"What?" asked Ron.

"The students," Ginny replied. "All of the students were out on the lawn. Now they're gone."

Harry looked out to see that Ginny was right. But now that Harry thought about it, the lawn had already been deserted when he had run up from Hogsmeade. Harry was certain, however, that he had not imagined opening the main doors when he had made his way back inside the school. Whoever had cast the Dark Mark and blown out the doors of the school had done so after he – and Ron and Hermione for that matter – had left for the bathroom. It seemed almost certain that the blowing out of the doors and the casting of the Dark Mark (which now that Harry thought about it, might well have come from a single curse) was the cause of the noise they had heard just a few moments before. But then who had conjured the Dark Mark and where were they now?

Hermione broke into Harry's thoughts.

"Well, look," she said, a little brusquely. "What are we going to do now?"

Ron looked nervously between the blown out door and the grounds outside.

"Well, we've got to get out of here, haven't we?" he seemed to decide. "I mean we can't just hang about in here with You Know Who and his goonies around. I mean, they're obviously in here, aren't they? Winky was right."

"How are we going to do that?" retorted Ginny. "We can't very well go running across the lawn. We'd be easy targets if anyone was up in the castle watching us!"

"Perhaps we should find out where everyone else went," suggested Harry.

"How are we going to do that?" said Hermione. "We can't very well go and ask, can we?"

"Oh, dears!" said a voice behind them.

The four Gryffindors spun around, their wands out. Professor Dibble raised her hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Oh, put those things away, children!" she cried. "No," she said suddenly, her eyes widening in alarm. "On second thought, you'd better leave them out. Oh dear, we are in terrible trouble! But thank goodness I've found you all! We'd hoped Mr. Potter hadn't gone to Hogsmeade. Now, come along! Quickly!"

None of the others moved right away.

"Professor Dibble," said Harry, uncomfortably aware that he was looking for answers from a witch whose greatest skill to this point had been burning holes in desks and students' shoes. "What's going on?"

"The Death Eaters have attacked the school! They're apparating in and out of everywhere. I don't know how it's possible but they are. We've gotten everyone upstairs in the Astronomy Tower. It seems they still can't reach us there. Now come on before they find you!"

Whatever their recent disagreements, Ron and Harry now shared a glance and each could see that the other was thinking the same. Winky had told them what Voldemort was planning and the mightiest evidence so far supported her story: the safest place for Harry to be was as far away from Hogwarts as possible. But on the other hand, there was no telling what might happen if he tried to leave.

For the moment Harry was trapped, along with his friends, which was perhaps what Voldemort had planned all along.

Dibble led them along the darkened corridor. It seemed that she had fared no better than any of them in getting her wand to cast light. They walked back in the direction they had come, past the bathroom and on toward the secondary staircases that eventually led up to the Astronomy Tower. With every quickened step, they found themselves pitched ever further into darkness until all of them relied more on years of memory of the school's twisting pathways than anything they could see with their eyes.

"Professor," said Hermione, struggling to keep pace with Dibble. "Why won't our wands work?"

If Hermione was seeking reassurance from Dibble, she did not find it.

"I'm afraid I don't know, dear," came the uneasy reply. "It must be some form of dark magic. Oh, we are in terrible trouble, I'm afraid."

At this, Dibble quickened her pace even more, causing the others to follow at a trot. As Harry jogged quickly across the stone hallway, he felt a shiver run up his body and he visibly shuddered. It still felt cold in the castle, even with the summer heat outside, but he doubted it was the temperature that had caused him to shake. He mustn't lose his nerve now!

Just as Harry thought this, however, he felt a small hand take hold of his own and looked down to see Ginny, who seemed to have been watching him closely, walking alongside. And just as his feeling of cold had not been the cold of the castle around him, so Harry now felt warmer than the simple sensation of Ginny's hand against his should ever have warmed his body. If only they could somehow get through this, he thought, alive and together.

"Scared?" he whispered to Ginny so that only she could hear.

Ginny shook her head with conviction, her eyes not leaving Harry's.

After a long moment, Harry forced his eyes away from Ginny's and back to the hallway in front of them. It seemed much darker now than it had been earlier when the sunlight from the hole in the castle wall had shone their way. Harry was having trouble seeing very far in front and hoped there was only an empty corridor ahead. He tried not to think that if what Professor Dibble had said was true, a Death Eater could apparate out of the shadows at any moment and there would be little that any of them could do.

But even as Harry thought how dark it was, he swore he could see an even blacker silhouette standing just ahead of them. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him but as they grew closer, he felt sure it was not his own imagination. There was definitely someone standing in front of them, dressed completely in black.

Harry was about to open his mouth to warn the others when he heard Dibble say in a nervously quivering voice:

"Who's there? Come out and show yourself!"

There was a shuffling sound and the black-clad figure withdrew a hood to reveal a face as pale white as the wearer's cloak was dark.

Dibble sighed loudly.

"Oh, headmaster, you gave me such an awful fright!"

"Forgive me, Professor," replied Snape, oddly stressing the last word as though it belonged only within a set of quotation marks. "I was anxious not to be seen by any of the Death Eaters. You've found Potter, I see."

"Oh, yes," replied Dibble. "Oh, it's awful, headmaster! There are Death Eaters everywhere and our wands won't work!"

"I think you'll discover your wands are still very much functional, Professor," replied Snape, his voice as calm as Dibble's was anxious. "Someone has used dark magic in this hallway to ensure that no object can produce its own light. However," Snape took his right hand out from behind his back to reveal a glowing tip on the end of his own wand. "My own wand is protected by certain – counter curses."

Harry was sure Snape had smiled for a moment.

"Oh, thank heavens, headmaster!" replied Dibble airily. "Well, we'd better be off then."

But none of the students moved.

"How do you know this?" asked Hermione neutrally.

"Miss Granger!" retorted Dibble. "The headmaster – "

Snape held up a hand. "Not to worry, Professor," he said, in a tone that reminded Harry of a purring tiger. "I have long grown accustomed to Miss Granger's infernal questions. As it so happens, girl," he said slowly, "I am well versed in defenses against the Dark Arts, considerably more so than any of the witless succession of Defense masters you have suffered these past few years."

"I wonder why Dumbledore never gave you the job then?" asked Ron acidly.

Snape turned to him and simply stared for a moment, then, as if exerting no small amount of self-control, said:

"I haven't the faintest idea, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps you'd like to ask when you next see him. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I suggest we get moving. We'll have plenty of time to chat later if and when this castle is secure."

Professor Dibble didn't need to be told twice. The light from Snape's wand had revealed the secondary staircase almost directly in front of them. Breathing a sigh of relief, she grabbed hold of the banister and began making her way noisily up the stairs.

"I wouldn't go up there if I were you, Professor," said Snape. "As I came down here to inform you, this particular path has been blocked by Death Eaters. It's quite simple, really," he added, as if explaining arithmetic to a child. "The Death Eaters know that the Tower is secure. They are expecting you to follow this path as it is the only one they know of. Fortunately, however, I am aware of one other." Snape gestured to the dark open hallway ahead of them.

Dibble quickly took her hand away from the banister as though she had found it on fire and walked down the steps and out to the corridor ahead of them. She had walked several paces again when Snape's voice said:

"One more thing, Professor."

Dibble stopped walking and turned around.

Snape looked to the other students.

"Is Miss Weasley among you?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked around to see Ginny emerge from where she had been standing just behind Harry into the faint light cast by Snape's wand. She looked up at Snape with such an expression that even the normally implacable acting headmaster seemed to step slightly backwards.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, an icy coldness reflecting in the light of Snape's wand on her eyes.

"I am naturally concerned for your safety," replied Snape laconically. "Not, of course, that I expect you to appreciate this. You were missing and unaccounted for. Now if you all wouldn't mind."

Snape stretched out the long hand that held his illuminated wand in the direction of the dark corridor ahead of them.

While Professor Dibble seemed all too eager to leave what she apparently assumed was much greater danger behind them, it was not without great reluctance that the four Gryffindors followed Snape further down the first floor corridor. Nevertheless, more out of a concern to stay alert in the dark passageway than any well-thought decision to leave themselves in Snape's hands, each of them remained silent. They soon passed two other staircases but Snape had chosen to take neither of them, claiming that he knew a safer path. Finally, they reached the end of the corridor entirely and came upon a small door. Snape quickly opened the door and began to walk down a narrow set of steps. It was only then that the students hesitated once more.

It was yet again Hermione who voiced the question which all of them were thinking.

"Why are we going down the stairs when we're supposed to be going up to the Astronomy Tower?"

Snape turned around.

"It may seem difficult for one with such a narrowly logical mind to understand," he replied cuttingly, "but the passages in the castle are rarely straightforward, as I think you and your friends have discovered on your many illicit journeys through this school."

There was no immediate response from the others. Hermione sensed Professor Dibble fussing behind her like a mother hen.

"Come on, children, really! Down you go. Follow the headmaster! Quickly!"

Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron looked at each other nervously and then Harry, Ginny, Dibble, and Ron followed Snape down into the pit of the staircase which they could see at once was even darker than the hallway they had just left. After a moment's reluctance, Hermione followed.

As they walked, Hermione found that the steps grew steeper and steeper the further they went and she and the others were forced to walk slowly. At the same time, however, Snape's own pace seemed to quicken, lengthening the distance between her and their only source of light. This in turn made things much darker and the steps even harder and slower to descend. Then, after it seemed like they had walked for some way, Ron stopped in front of her. She was too far away to see Snape and his wand light now but she heard him say:

"Alohomora."

Hermione heard the sound of a catch unclicking. A door in front of them opened with a slow creak. Then the group ahead moved on.

Finally, Hermione followed the others through a small doorway and into a short but wider low-ceilinged room. Level with the others, she could now see Snape and the light in front of him. From this, she could see another door. Snape moved slowly toward it. His hand closed on the handle but then a familiar voice rang out from somewhere in front of Hermione.

"Step away from the door."

It was Harry.

Snape turned around, and Hermione could see from the light of his wand which he now pointed slightly upwards and back toward them that he wore a slightly amused look on his face. She could also now see that Harry was pointing his own wand directly at Snape.

Hermione moved cautiously to the side of the others and could see an expression of fierce determination on Harry's face. Neither Ron nor Ginny seemed particularly surprised at Harry's defiance and Hermione wondered what she herself looked like at the moment. Dibble, however, who seemed to step further away from the others, looked back and forth between Harry and Snape in complete bewilderment.

"Mr. – Mr. Potter, what on Earth?" she said. "Mr. Potter, put that thing away!"

"No," said Harry evenly. "Not until he's told us exactly what he's doing and where he's taking us."

"Headmaster Snape has already explained to Miss Granger," retorted Dibble. "The way is not so direct, I'll admit, but the Headmaster is trying to save our lives. The least you could do – "

"I wonder if this indirect route leads us straight to the original room," Harry interrupted, "where we know Voldemort is hiding this very moment!"

"Do we now, Potter?" said Snape idly, his wand continuing to light part of his face which now looked like a melting candle. "I wasn't aware we knew anything of the sort. And how may I ask did you come across this information?"

Harry looked quickly back at the other students but it was Dibble who spoke up next.

"The original – " she spluttered, still looking at Harry with an expression of complete incomprehension. "The original what? What's he talking about?"

Hermione thought quickly. She tried to trace in her mind where exactly it was in the school they were standing at the moment. The kitchen was still in the other wing but, of course, there was another entrance to the room, wasn't there? That's what Harry had found out from Malfoy during their duel and that was how Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had found their way into the room that day, wasn't it? And given how large the room was –

Hermione could see right away that she was not the only one thinking along these lines for at that moment Ron and Ginny raised their own wands at Snape.

Snape raised an eyebrow in Hermione's direction.

"Not you, Miss Granger? But of course, you must hold onto the pretense of adhering to school rules until it becomes convenient for you to break them."

In response, Hermione raised her own wand.

Dibble shook her head.

"I don't know what you children are thinking but we're wasting time! The Death Eaters – "

"I would save your breath, Professor," said Snape conversationally. "This isn't the first time Potter and his friends have tried to stop me from saving their lives. I've said it before, Potter, but I see it bears saying again: you are so very much like your father. He, too, was always surrounded by a witless gang of supporters, all of whom hoped to feed off something of his imagined glory on the Quidditch pitch. As I told you in my letter, I could care less if you or any of your friends survive this day, but I would prefer to save myself and Professor Dibble, so if you don't mind – "

Snape moved toward the door again.

Hermione gasped as a bright streak of blue light flew past Snape's right ear and blew a hole in the stone wall just above the door.

"I SAID KEEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!"

Snape turned around again.

"We are not moving from this spot until you have answered several of my questions," said Harry with authority before Snape could speak.

Hermione could see that Snape still had an amused expression on his face. It had taken the combined curses of Ron, Harry, and herself to disarm him during their third year. She wasn't sure how they would fare this time if Snape really tried to be aggressive in return. She wondered if Harry was thinking this, too.

"How did you know where to find us?" Harry demanded.

"I have learned to look for you and your friends where trouble is most being caused, in this case, right underneath where the Dark Mark was cast."

"I think you cast that mark while we were in the bathroom, then ran back to stand by the stairway so that you'd be there when we arrived."

"You'll hardly make even a passing auror at this rate, Potter. Didn't you hear Professor Dibble? Anyone could have cast that mark. Death Eaters are apparating and disapparating all over the building every minute, which is why – "

"How did you know Ginny was with us?" asked Harry, his voice rising. "Why did you think to look for her? She could have been in Hogsmeade."

"You may have been blind all these years, Potter, but others – "

"You sent me that note!" cried Harry. "Dumbledore and the Order don't know anything about that, do they? You wanted me to stay in the school, not to keep me safe, but to make sure no one was here to rescue me!"

"And what do you think I am trying to do now, Potter?" said Snape with a tone of one very near the end of his patience.

"I think you're trying to take us to Voldemort."

It was over very quickly.

They could hear but not see two doors opening on either side of them. Masked, darkened shapes slid into the room with such graceful stealth that their feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Before any of the others had time to react, the Death Eaters had seized each their wands and grabbed every one of them.

Everyone, that was, but Snape who continued to stand unmoving, his expression unchanged, his wand still pointed up to his face and away from the others.

No one spoke for a moment. It was as if they were all rooted to the spot like wind-up toys whose acts had wound to a close.

"H – H – Headmaster," stammered Dibble finally. "What's going on? W – Who are these people?"

But before Dibble had even finished her question, Snape was already rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, his face curling in a horrible approximation of a smile. The lines on his waxy face grotesquely exaggerated in the dim light of his wand, Snape looked hardly more natural than Lord Voldemort himself. As Snape gradually exposed the Dark Mark etched in his forearm, Hermione had the horrible feeling she was looking at him for the very first time.

"Isn't it obvious, Professor?" replied Snape, a leery edge to his voice. "These people are Death Eaters. And as you can see, so am I."

Dibble's eyes bulged at the sight of the mark on Snape's arm.

"I – I don't understand."

"I didn't suppose you would," Snape retorted. "As it so happens, Potter was right about me. It has pained me a great deal to see you destroy my laboratory this year, Professor, as it has been to serve under Dumbledore all these years finally to gain the naïve old fool's trust. But at last I was able to assume the position where I could serve my Lord most effectively, to where I could deliver both Hogwarts and Potter to him, which I intend to do this very afternoon."

"I always knew you couldn't be trusted," said Harry. "I knew you had never really left Voldemort."

Hermione realized that Harry was right. Harry had refused to trust Snape even after Dumbledore had confirmed his double agent status on the night of the Third Task. He had challenged him during the Occlumency lessons the previous year and refused to return. He had also consistently refused to tell Snape anything that had happened to them this year, even after Dumbledore – and Hermione herself - had repeatedly told him he should.

But Snape was shaking his head.

"On the contrary, Potter," he said, in a strangely methodical tone, as if explaining a procedure in the potions classroom. "You have always trusted me really. You were wary of me, yes, but just like Dumbledore, you had the arrogance to believe that anyone with enough experience and sense would eventually be swayed to the self-righteous life of the Gryffindor. That I could be, somehow, redeemed in your eyes from whatever my past sins may have been. But no one remembered, especially not Dumbledore, and not even you, that I saw the swaggering hypocrisy of the Gryffindor way when I was a student myself and I've never forgotten the lesson.

"Still I confess my amazement at the degree to which Dumbledore continued to trust me. He knew much more than most what I'd done, how close I'd been to the Dark Lord. He gave me the keys to this school. He even depended on me this year to mix potions for him to deceive the Dark Lord into thinking he had gained access to Hogwarts. But it was never my Lord whom I truly deceived. The Dark Lord always knows when someone is lying to him; Dumbledore, on the other hand, would nurse a lion to health, believing it had never really meant to attack him.

"And you're just the same, Potter. Unlike Professor Dibble here, you and your friends have seen this mark on my arm before but you were too blind to understand what it really meant. One never leaves the service of Lord Voldemort. You never doubted my intentions in sending you that note telling you to remain in the castle. For all your childish games at rule-breaking you never stopped to think for a moment that I would really betray you or Dumbledore and his witless crusade against the Dark Lord. I thought that leading you here would be the hardest part of my plan, but you even let me take you to the very threshold of the chamber where my Lord awaits you, believing all of my feeble lies about finding another route. You always thought I would really protect you. You really believed I had saved your life from that fool Quirrell so that the Dark Lord wouldn't take you, but let me get one thing straight, Potter."

Snape's voice started to quiver and rise. His eyes watered as he looked across at Harry with the unblinking eyes of a fanatic.

"I kept you alive all these years for one reason and one reason alone: so that one day I could deliver you to my fully strengthened and returned Lord and Master! And now that day has come!"

Snape's lips straightened as he motioned quickly in the direction of the still open door. Hermione was grabbed from behind by one of the Death Eaters. She tried to twist out of his grip but still felt herself half-carried, half-shoved to the entranceway. She looked around to see that the others were not faring any better. A mane of silver hair from the back of a Death Eater's mask walked into the light of Snape's wand. Lucius Malfoy had hold of a struggling Harry and tried to take hold of Ginny with his other arm when Snape put up his hand.

"Miss Weasley stays here with me."

Malfoy let go of Ginny's arm. Harry started to struggle even more but Malfoy kept both of his arms wrapped tightly around him in a vice-like grip, all the time poking Harry's own wand into his back. Hermione winced as her own captor followed his example.

Even as he kept hold of Harry, however, Malfoy stopped and stared at Snape. Behind his mask it was not possible to see what was written on his face but Hermione had the sudden impression there was no love loss between them.

"The Dark Lord wishes it," Snape replied to Malfoy's unasked question.

Malfoy still did not move forward. The other Death Eaters stopped, too, holding their captives at bay but clearly uncertain what to do and where to go next.

"Do you doubt my loyalty still?" Snape's voice rose sharply. "Perhaps I should give you a little demonstration, just so you can feel sure."

Hermione felt the bile rise in her throat. She was very sure something awful was about to happen and desperately did not want the next moment to come. She suddenly hoped Malfoy would say something – anything – to ameliorate Snape but she also knew he had no interest at all in doing so.

Hermione stopped struggling and saw that Harry, Ginny, and Ron had done the same. It was as if they all hoped that Snape's attention would be diverted elsewhere. Only a single asynchronous sound of shuffling struggle could still be heard. Like an animal sensing only the movement of a prey too frightened to remain standing still, Snape raised his bony arm. The Death Eater who was guarding Professor Dibble quickly let go of her. Dibble tried to make a clumsy leap for the door to the stairs. The Death Eater did not move to follow. And then in a horribly cold hoarse voice, Snape cried out:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The darkened room was suddenly lit full with a bright flash of green light from Snape's wand. Dibble was hit squarely in the back. For a moment, she seemed to keep moving forward but then with a sick cry that ended in a gurgle, she crumpled to the ground and lay there motionless in a darkness that returned as swiftly as it had been broken.

No one said a word. Snape's wand returned slowly to his face.

"Lumos," he said softly.

The wand lit up again and Hermione could see that Snape still wore the misshapen expression that passed for a smile. She was certain she was going to be sick.

Malfoy stared at Snape for a moment, then pushed Harry forward with his wand. Snape turned around and grabbed hold of Ginny's shoulder and pulled her further back into the shadows away from the door. Hermione felt horribly numb when she saw Harry's face as he watched Ginny slipping away from him.

"What do you want with her?" Ron demanded, struggling against the Death Eater who held him again.

"I'm not going to let you take her!" Harry cried.

He wrestled himself free of Malfoy and tried to launch himself at Snape. He was inches away when Snape's still lit wand caught him on the bridge of his nose.

"Need to I remind you, Potter," he said icily, "what this wand can do?"

Harry clenched his teeth and did not move.

Snape raised the wand and seemed about to open his mouth when Ginny's voice cried out from the shadows:

"No, Harry, don't! You can't stop him, not now! Just go!"

Harry turned to look in the direction of Ginny's voice, a terribly hollow look in his eyes.

"Please, Harry," said Ginny again. "I love you."

Harry looked like he was opening his mouth to respond in kind but only a soft moan came out. And Hermione realized that there was nothing Harry could say to express the emotional eddies that now twisted inside him.

A low rumbling sound filled the room like a distant thunder. It took Hermione a moment to realize the Death Eaters were laughing behind their masks.

And then Hermione heard something else, something that chilled her even more than all that had just past. It was the sound of madness and it cried out piercingly from right behind her left ear.

"I wuv you!" mimicked the mocking voice.

Harry's head swung around to look at the Death Eater holding Hermione, an expression on his face almost worse than the one he had just worn when Snape had forced Ginny away from his side, if that were possible. For now he was looking into the masked face of his godfather's murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Lestrange seemed to grow excited at the same expression that froze and horrified Hermione. She could sense her horrible excited fidgeting and hear her quickened breath as her cold hands restrained Hermione even more tightly.

"Let me punish Potter myself!" she cried raspily, "before we go ahead to meet our Lord. Let me remind him of the consequence of his insolence!"

"Potter will have all the reminder he needs once the Dark Lord has seen him," Snape cooed chillingly.

Hermione could feel Lestrange growing even more agitated.

"Just one Cruciatus would surely not damage him too much! Or," she added quickly, her voice flourishing into an obscene crescendo, "perhaps wee Pottie would prefer it if I were to strike this one."

Hermione winced as she felt Lestrange's wand dig deep into the side of her neck. She clenched her fists in horrible anticipation of the pain her captor was about to unleash but Snape's horrible voice rang out again, this time louder.

"That is enough! You do not know Potter and his friends like I do! Any commotion and you risk the chance of their escape and everything the Dark Lord has worked for. Or," Snape added into a hiss, "do you wish to fail him yet again?"

Hermione panted heavily as Lestrange released her wand from the side of her neck. Her relief was short-lived, however, as Snape motioned them on. She drew in a breath as Malfoy grabbed a struggling Harry and opened the door ahead of them.

"Lumos," he said.

The light from Malfoy's wand revealed a musty corridor just like the one that had led from the kitchens when they had first explored the hidden room. Snape trained his own wand back to the others. Malfoy held Harry's wand at his back in his left hand while holding his own aloft. He shoved Harry forward hard through the door.

Harry had walked no more than a few steps forward into the corridor proper when he let out a small gasp and fell to the floor, clutching his forehead in pain.

Malfoy pointed Harry's wand at his back, his body tensing for fear that Harry's pain was a ruse but Snape merely muttered to no one in particular:

"The Dark Lord managed to set up a thought shield after Potter's last attempt to rescue Miss Weasley, with some help from me, of course."

"You bloody little bastard," Ron spat suddenly, as Harry slowly dragged himself to his feet, clutching his forehead. "I'll make sure you rot in Azkaban forever for this, if I don't kill you myself!"

"And I'll make sure you never have the chance to put me there," replied Snape calmly.

The Death Eaters laughed again. Lestrange's shrill glee seemed to come from the center of Hermione's head. The Death Eater guarding Ron shoved him through the door behind Malfoy and Harry so hard that Ron hit his head on the low ceiling.

Hermione felt a prod in her own back and Lestrange's horrible rancid breath on the side of her face. She moved forward to follow Ron and the Death Eater guarding him. She looked back briefly at Ginny but saw only Snape's silhouette pointing his wand now in Hermione's direction, Ginny behind him. Hermione turned away and looked up at the hallway she was entering. She felt the footsteps of Lestrange just behind hers and twisted against his arm only to wince in pain when Lestrange dug her right hand roughly into the tender skin just below Hermione's rib cage and prodded her forward again. A further sound of footsteps told her that the Death Eater who had been guarding Dibble had now fallen in step behind them. She knew they were much too bunched up for any one of them to try to escape now. All they could do was continue to move forward.

Hermione fought hard to repress the feeling of claustrophobia that gripped her like a glove as the Death Eaters walked them all forward. She could hear her heart pounding somewhere in the region of her throat as the corridor grew narrower and sloped slightly downwards just like the other. Then, when the walls had grown in so close that Hermione almost had to walk sideways to fit, the hallway leveled out and widened to a small alcove. From the light of Malfoy's wand, Hermione could see a wooden door in front of them with a brass handle in the shape of the Hogwarts crest.

They stopped for a moment. In the silence, Hermione could sense the door vibrating every few seconds. She found herself starting to shake. There was no doubt in her mind where this door led and who was waiting behind it.

Malfoy's cold crisp voice cut through the small air of the enclosed space as if he had been reading Hermione's thoughts:

"Let's not keep the Dark Lord waiting then."

Malfoy reached past Harry and turned the brass knocker to the right.

Hermione sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. She was about to meet the creature of all of her nightmares.

The door opened.


	22. The Hidden Foe

Chapter 22

The Hidden Foe

Ron shielded his eyes momentarily as a bright blue-white light suddenly filled the alcove. Just as he was beginning to adjust, he felt the Death Eater behind him shove him forward hard. He stumbled and struggled to gain his footing.

When he looked up, he was not very surprised to find himself in the original room. The faces of the Hogwarts founders on the portraits around the room and the house banners had been replaced with the large snake-shaped lanterns. Ron's eyes were drawn to the small table at the middle of the room, the table around which he and the others had guilelessly walked on their last visit. On this table sat a large cauldron over which was suspended a glowing white crystal which spun around emitting an oscillating blue and white light.

It was exactly as Ginny had described it.

And behind the table, flanked by two masked Death Eaters, one of whom seemed to fidget nervously while the other stood still, stood a short, serpentine creature with two fiery red eyes and a horribly emaciated neck. Ron had the sudden impression of an oversized eel that had just sprouted arms and legs.

Ron did not need to wonder who the creature was or however it had once been called a man. He had never spoken its name his whole life and only once, as a small child, had he seen its picture staring at him from out of an old copy of The Daily Prophet his mother had been reading before she had quickly shoved it out of his sight, a ghastly haunted look in her eyes that had frightened Ron as much as the picture itself. And perhaps it was for this reason that Ron had never forgotten that face.

Yet strangely, like a child who finds himself disappointed in finally seeing his normal-looking idol in person, far removed from the glamour and hype of his media image, Ron found that he was not afraid to stand in the presence of the most feared dark wizard in the history of their kind. For now, it seemed as though that fear had a face and a form where before, like its name, it had had none. And so, even though he had little doubt he wouldn't live past this encounter with Lord Voldemort, Ron oddly felt very little fear at all.

Ron's thoughts were interrupted when he was shoved forward again to stand much closer to the round table than he ever would have liked, almost directly opposite Voldemort and the Death Eaters on the other side. Hermione was shoved to his immediate right, but a few paces still separated him. Harry was placed on the far right of Hermione. The gap between the three friends covered nearly the entire width of the long, narrow room. The Death Eaters stood behind them training their wands against any sign of their movement.

Voldemort opened his mouth and spoke in a high-pitched hiss. It took Ron a moment to understand that the sounds he was making were actually words.

"Glorious, isn't it?" he said, looking at the crystal. "It is made from the fused heads of hundreds of Monocellate cobras, the combined psychic power of the most legiliment creatures on Earth. It channels energy, and occasionally matter, but mostly thought. It's also utterly lethal when activated, of course."

Ron looked back at Voldemort and noticed for the first time that he was holding a small torn black book in his hand. He watched him take a long thin reptilian hand and place the book back down onto the table with surprising gracefulness. As Voldemort moved slowly around the table to walk toward them, Ron realized with horror that it was his sister's old diary.

"A very special book," Voldemort said slowly, "and a very special spell. One which you broke, Harry," he added, looking at Harry as if he were a fond nephew. "But like all things Harry Potter tries to destroy, Lord Voldemort brings back to life."

Voldemort tried to smile but finished up looking like the head of a snake ever more eager to strike.

"I've been waiting for you, Harry," he said, inching his way closer to the three of them.

Harry started to grasp his scar in pain again.

"It is so fortunate that you were able to return this book to Lucius here so that he could later on leave it in my own possession again," Voldemort went on, looking at Harry as if studying his pain. "Everything leaves behind a mental imprint for those able to read it. Even after you had destroyed the diary, Harry, I was able to learn what it was it had done. And so, I was able to renew my younger self's friendship with Ginny Weasley, first only in her dreams, and then whenever she had left the castle's protection. But soon, with the help of my most faithful servant, Severus Snape, I was able to prepare a potion to reach into her thoughts even as she lay asleep in this once secure school."

Voldemort stopped inches away from Harry's face. Harry continued to writhe in pain but he did not back away.

"And now that I am here I have been able to use this diary and the crystal much more clearly and secretly than I ever did out in the forest. Ginny has been my eyes and ears, you see. Through her thoughts, I have been watching all of your words and actions since I arrived in this room this morning, Harry. I must admit I'm a little disappointed. It seems you had real feelings for the girl. I had thought a wizard like yourself might be above those things as I was, but no matter. I suppose the sorting hat really doesn't lie after all and I've long since given up hope that you might ever really join my side.

"But I am very grateful for one thing, Harry," Voldemort continued to hiss, flecks of his obscene spittle now showering Harry's face like snake venom. "For many years, I wondered how I could ever make you suffer as much as you made me. I knew you from the day you stopped me from getting the Philosopher's Stone that you weren't afraid to die – just like your mother and father before you. Torture and mind control equally mean little to you. But that I know how much you value guilt and sentimentality, what friends they are to you. Shall I repeat your own words of this morning to you?"

Voldemort's tone of voice grew even higher in a mock imitation of Harry.

"'I'm not really afraid to die. I'm just afraid that he'll take away the lives of my friends because of me.'"

There was another sickening rumble around the room. The Death Eaters were laughing again.

"I'm afraid I must deny myself the pleasure of watching you see Ginny suffer, Harry," Voldemort said. "I asked Severus to kill her as soon as you left, you see. I'd be surprised if he hasn't already."

Ron swallowed and forced himself to look away. Emotion flooded back to him so suddenly it was as if someone had flicked on a switch: Rage and grief at Voldemort's dispassionate murder of his sister. Shame and remorse that he would never be able to say sorry for the horrible things he had said to her and Harry that day; and a panicked fear of what the Dark Lord had planned for the rest of them.

But Ron swept aside these feelings like a dream. If Voldemort was finite, then so was the pain he could cause. He looked over at Hermione and Harry and saw that, although they were putting on brave faces, they were still very much afraid. Ron found himself thinking back to what Professor Nevins had told him the very first day of their class. Was this what it meant to feel brave?

Ron became aware that Voldemort was speaking again.

"But I will torture your two friends right in front of your eyes and you can watch them suffer. And as you watch, you can think how I would have paid them not the slightest attention were it not for their friendship with you, Harry. And how all of your noble plans to save them ended in nothing but their own misery and despair."

Voldemort took a step toward Harry so that he was right on top of him. He held an elongated fingernail in the air like a teacher clutching a decayed piece of chalk.

"And then, Harry," Voldemort finished in a whisper. "You and I will duel. And you will have nothing – "

Voldemort traced his finger over the top of Harry's scar. Harry cried out in pain.

" – and no one – "

Voldemort traced a diagonal line. Harry screamed.

" – to stop me this time."

Voldemort ran his finger down Harry's scar to the bridge of his nose with a flourish. Harry screamed and fell to the ground, his hands clenched over his face.

The Death Eaters laughed again, this time loudly. And from their deep raucous bellows came a terrible high-pitched laughter from Voldemort's own mouth, like a serpent screaming for the kill.

Ron stepped back sharply, seized the Death Eater guarding him by the wrist and pulled down hard. There was a satisfying cracking sound. The Death Eater's laughter turned quickly to angst as he looked down in agony at his twisted wrist.

Voldemort and the other Death Eaters whirled around only in time to see the Death Eater's palm open and Ron's wand slip into his hand. Voldemort's own wand was raised in an instant. A bead of green light shot out toward Ron but Ron twisted away at the last moment and Voldemort's curse hit the floor just behind him. Rolling on the ground, Ron pointed his wand at the table behind him and cried:

"Accio Crystal!"

Before any of the Death Eaters had time to react, Ron jumped back and forth like a beetle through a swarm of hex-casting Death Eaters to a point in the room just behind Harry.

Voldemort now stood between him and the crystal. Like a guided missile, the still glowing crystal soared from the table to its summoner's new position which, exactly as Ron had intended, was blocked by the Dark Lord himself.

Several things happened in very quick succession. Ron became aware out of his peripheral vision that the Death Eater holding him had rushed toward him in pursuit and was now lunging for his wand. Ron knew that he would not move, however, and watched as the crystal flew fast toward Voldemort and seemed to all but skirt the edge of the Dark Lord's robes before he disapparated and the stone continued at rapid speed toward Ron. Ron could feel an immense heat rush over him as the crystal soared toward his face. He quickly lurched down toward the floor, knowing that the crystal would follow him. There came a tremendous flash and an explosion of light even inside Ron's instinctively closed eyes. He felt certain for a moment that the crystal had hit him but then he heard a loud scream from just beside him and in an instant before he collided with the floor, Ron opened his eyes to see that the Death Eater's lunging body had been caught between him and the crystal. For an instant, the face and singed body of Buckbeak's executioner Macnair lit up like a white firework. Ron covered his head with his arms and kept rolling on the floor as blue and white sparks raced out in all directions from Macnair.

The rest of the Death Eaters in the room just stared at Macnair, too dumbfounded to speak. Then another cry rose as an errant spark struck down the Death Eater who had originally been guarding Professor Dibble. Bellatrix Lestrange flinched and ducked behind Hermione, balancing precariously for a moment. That was all the opportunity Hermione needed to lean her weight into Lestrange's hip and send her crashing all the way to the floor.

Even Lestrange's harsh cry of surprise was drowned in the cacophony of sizzling energy and bloodcurdling screams that continued to come from Macnair. The wand she had held rolled out of her hand on the ground. Lestrange quickly got to her feet again but before she could collect her wand, Hermione had gathered it into her hand. She quickly pointed it at an astonished Lestrange and cried:

"Rictusempra!"

Lestrange twisted and turned in the air like a corkscrew and landed with a thud onto the opposite wall before sliding down to the floor in a motionless heap.

Lestrange had barely finished moving when Hermione heard a strangled curse from her right. Malfoy held his wand in a high flourish and was about to bring an enormous hex down on her when Harry, who had been clutching his scar on the floor in pain, rose quickly to his knees and tugged hard on Malfoy's ankle. Malfoy's face twisted in momentary surprise and he stumbled just enough to lose his aim and send a powerful curse crashing into the wall behind Hermione, removing a large chunk of wood paneling and much of the stone behind it in the process. Harry yanked harder and Malfoy went crashing to the floor.

Hermione ducked just as wand fire from the two Death Eaters who had been guarding Voldemort flew in her direction. Crouched down on the floor, she saw Harry's wand roll out of Malfoy's grip. He lunged for it but Harry brought the heel of his foot down hard onto Malfoy's fingers. With his own right hand, Harry scooped up the wand and swung around to use it on Malfoy when Malfoy grabbed his own ankle with his good hand. Harry shook his ankle away and tried to aim the wand but Malfoy jumped toward the wall and ducked behind a large slab of concrete that had been dislodged from the wall by errant sparks from the crystal.

Macnair seemed to have screamed his last. Where once had stood his body was a bright shining column of light that continued to hiss sparks all over the room bringing destruction in their wake. They were soon joined by the cracks of wand fire coming from all around them. Hermione lay flat on the floor. She looked around to see that Ron was still standing and dodging the fire from both of the Death Eaters beside the table. Hermione quickly threw her own curses at one of the two Death Eaters but she was forced to duck as a spark flew out of Macnair just singing the uppermost strands of her hair. She looked over to the other side to see Harry still in the open fiercely trading hexes with Lucius Malfoy who lay safely behind the cover of a large stone. She whirled back to see Ron's arm sending hexes between the two Death Eaters like a sped-up film. She raised her arm to try and send another hex to the table again when a bright flash of blue light from Macnair flew over her head and hit the Death Eater on the right of the table square in the chest. The impact threw him well down to the far end of the room nearly to the kitchen door.

The acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air and Hermione turned around briefly to see that Macnair's body had now completely vaporized and the crystal had burned itself out. Hermione got to her feet and she and Ron let off a volley of shots in the direction of the remaining Death Eater.

The Death Eater rolled to the floor and dived behind the piece of paneling that was earlier dislodged by Malfoy's wand fire from where he continued to fire the occasional hex at Ron and Hermione.

Ron looked around and was heartened to see that they seemed to be winning the battle. Both Malfoy and the other Death Eater were on the defensive, crouched behind their respective barricades on either side of the room's width, unable to pool forces. Harry kept trading shots with Malfoy and Ron and Hermione continued to gang up against their Death Eater. Finally, one of Hermione's hexes found its target and the Death Eater fell back to the ground with a groan. Ron and Hermione both ran over to take positions on either side of Harry and all three of them took aim at Malfoy.

Ron was certain they would overpower the dark wizard quickly but Malfoy moved with surprising agility and proved an extremely difficult target. The three Gryffindors strafed the wall behind him filling the air with splinters of wood and lung-clogging plaster. They twice blew his barricade into pieces but Malfoy always seemed to find another. Just as they were closing in on top of him and Ron was certain that one of their hexes would find its way home, there was a loud piercing crack.

"Look out!" cried Hermione and pulled Ron down to the ground.

Hermione and Ron landed hard on the floor just as four hexes hit the space they'd been standing like searchlights. Ron spun his head around in horror to see four new Death Eaters standing a few paces apart from the four sides of the table in the center. All of them were aiming at Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Standing just behind the Death Eaters on their right, a little in front of the hallway to the kitchen, stood Voldemort.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "They can apparate and disapparate!"

Just as surprised, Harry found himself distracted long enough for a shot from Malfoy to whiz past his own ear. Harry threw himself back to the wall, just meters away from Malfoy's own position, and positioned himself behind a large slab of broken away wall just as Malfoy had done.

Ron and Hermione dove to the right as another round of shots seared the floor where they had fallen just seconds before. Ron lunged for the side of the table and steered it over to use as a screen. Hermione screamed as a hex hit the tabletop, snapped it into pieces and sent the cauldron and its evil-looking brew to the floor with a loud clatter. Hermione moved out of the way of the goo as Ron quickly positioned the remaining pieces of table to cover them in all directions. The two lovers exchanged a fleeting glance then positioned themselves on either side of the feeble barricade and shot their own defensive hexes out through the air.

Harry watched in despair as the four Death Eaters flung a barrage of hexes at Ron and Hermione's poor shelter but he himself was more than occupied with Malfoy who had moved slightly away from his own barricade and back on the offensive, his own wand in his hand. But as consumed as he was in his struggle with Malfoy, Harry could not help but notice how Voldemort stood just behind the battle, his wand out but unused, a horrible smile on his face.

* * *

Snape continued to point his wand slightly up in the air so that it illuminated part of his face. He stared measuredly at Ginny but did not show any other signs of movement.

"If you're going to kill me," said Ginny, "why not just get it over with?"

Snape snorted.

"Why does he want to keep me here anyway? I would have thought he would want to torture and kill me right in front of Harry, just to make him suffer."

Snape stared impassively at Ginny.

"You don't have to say anything. I know he's afraid of me. He doesn't want me in that room with him. I just wish I knew why. I'm sure you do."

"You're awfully talkative for a young girl who often seemed incapable of speech in my Potions lessons. But, of course, the famous Gryffindor courage." Snape smiled cruelly.

Ginny merely fixed him with a cold stare.

"Perhaps – " Snape began but then froze.

A loud unnatural scream erupted from somewhere down the corridor ahead of them. The scream was followed by a kind of hissing and spitting sound. Snape looked at Ginny and for the briefest of moments she could sense he was as much in the dark as to what had just happened as she was.

And then the air was filled with the unmistakable cracking sounds of wands in combat. Ginny felt her pulse quicken. She found she had almost closed herself off to hope. But could it be that her friends were now fighting back and that they really did stand a chance after all?

She took greater heart when Snape's own eyes widened and his tight-lipped smile fell fast from his face, replaced by a look of great anxiousness. Seeming to forget about Ginny altogether, Snape took out his wand, opened the door that led down the corridor where the others had vanished, and stood hesitantly on the threshold straining his ears to hear the sharper sounds of what was now unmistakably the storm of battle.

Ginny was about to make an acerbic remark about Snape's abrupt change in demeanor when she saw that his back was turned to her and his lit wand rested idly in his hand, forgotten in the rush to more important matters. Thinking back what now seemed a very long time ago to her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this term with Professor Nevins, Ginny rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, then sprung like a tiger for the wand in Snape's hand.

Ginny's hand landed on Snape's arm. With a vicious grunt, he turned around to confront her. Ginny winced as she felt the hot tip of the wand touch her palm and Snape's bony hands squeeze hard onto her fingers. Ignoring the pain, she pulled down hard, freed herself from Snape's grip and came away with the wand in her hand.

His face contorted in a mixture of fury and surprise, Snape's right hand lunged for Ginny. Before he could connect, however, she jumped a step backwards, raised the wand in both hands, and cried out hysterically:

"Expelliarmus!"

A bead of blue light shot out from the wand and quickly covered the narrow distance between them. It hit Snape's chest and seemed to spread out across the front of his body. The would-be headmaster staggered backwards from the impact and Ginny was sure that the wand had done its work but then Snape straightened himself and looked down at Ginny, his arms folded, and the smuggest of smiles on his face.

Ginny stared down at the wand in her hands in shock.

Snape took a step toward Ginny. She felt his menacing breath on her face. She had the sudden impression he was about to try and strangle her with his bare hands.

"Did you really think an O.W.L. student would have the ability to match herself against a fully-trained Death Eater?" he snarled bitingly.

Ginny folded her arms in defiance.

"Actually, yes."

Without warning, Ginny brought her knee up hard into Snape's groin.

Snape's mouth opened wide to let out a soft moan of agonized surprise as he bent over in pain. Ginny quickly ran around to the other side of him and pushed hard against the small of his back. Snape fell awkwardly to his knees at the spot where the door to the hallway met the floor. Ignoring Snape's ineffective groans of protest, Ginny turned heel and ran down the hallway to follow the others, Snape's illuminated wand in her hand. She tried hard to ignore her anxiety as the walls seemed to quickly close in around her with the narrowing passageway. She had run perhaps forty meters when she heard from somewhere in the darkness behind her that Snape was now lumbering after her. All the time, the cracks of wand fire grew louder and louder although the sounds of screaming had ominously stopped. She knew she didn't have the luxury to stop to think about whether it was any of her friends who had cried out.

Ginny was running so hard she almost collided with the doorway. She pointed her wand at the brass handle and screamed loudly:

"Alohomora! Alohomora!"

The door did not budge. Panting hard, Ginny listened to Snape's footsteps echoing nearer and nearer off the walls around her. In desperation, she grabbed the brass knocker with her hand and shoved hard. Such was the force with which she pushed against the already unlocked door that Ginny tripped and fell right into the original room.

"Ginny, look out!" cried Ron's voice.

Ginny briefly saw Ron and Hermione huddled behind a makeshift barricade of what remained of the table that had once stood at the room's center fighting off Death Eater fire from all four corners of the chamber when she became aware that two of the firing Death Eaters now flanked her on either side and both of them had turned to aim their wands at her. Ginny ducked to avoid one hex but the Death Eater to her immediate right quickly took aim with another.

At Ron's words, Harry spun around to see Ginny flatten herself to the ground at the entranceway. He forced aside his relief at seeing her safe and alive. He knew she wouldn't remain that way for long if he did not act quickly. Spurred by a rush of urgency greater than that of his own survival, Harry anticipated Malfoy's next move and before the Death Eater could fire, he ended their long duel with a nasty hex to Malfoy's forehead. Malfoy fell back against a hard stone and appeared to lose consciousness. His wand flew out of his grasp and rolled along on the floor behind him.

Harry spun back around toward the entranceway in time to see both of the Death Eaters take aim at Ginny. He heard a stream of hexes coming from the direction of Ron and Hermione's makeshift shelter but he was sure they had missed their targets because both of the Death Eaters remained standing. Ginny raised her own wand but she didn't seem to know at which Death Eater to point it. Then, with a poise borne of necessity, Harry aimed his wand at Ginny and cried out:

"Levitatus!"

Ginny screamed as she rose in the air, her arms and legs flailing haphazardly at precisely the same moment both Death Eaters struck. One managed to duck but the other was hit in the torso with his fellow's killing curse. The Death Eater who had struck the curse staggered backward for a moment in a shock at what he had done, then aimed his wand furiously at the now falling Ginny.

But that moment was all Harry needed.

"Stufepy!" he cried.

And the Death Eater fell to the ground followed closely by Ginny's own landfall and unnatural cry of pain.

Harry ran down to the far end of the corridor ducking and weaving through wand fire still coming at him from the opposite side of the room. He ran up to Ginny who lay on the floor wincing in pain.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I saved your life – again."

Ginny moaned.

Harry grabbed her up to her feet.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Ginny tested her feet gingerly.

"I think I'm all right. It was just – "

Both Ginny and Harry ducked as another hex flew in their direction.

"Harry! Ginny! Look out behind you!" Hermione cried into the din.

The two Gryffindors whirled around in time to see Snape appear in the entranceway to the corridor directly behind him. They stared at each other for a moment. Then Snape raised a wand in his hand that Ginny recognized as her own. Harry grabbed Ginny and pulled her over to one side. Before Snape could utter a curse, however, two enormous hexes whizzed through the air from Ron and Hermione's position. Snape ducked but the hexes hit home on the stone wall just above him.

There was a large rumbling sound. Snape tried to move out of the way but two very large chunks of stone landed hard on his legs pinning him to the ground. Snape yelped in pain and writhed on the floor desperately trying to dislodge himself. He then covered his arms with his head but was unable to stop a smaller rainstorm of rocks from peppering his body. One slightly larger chunk fell on his head.

Ginny watched as his alarmed eyes slowly drifted into unconsciousness. Then she reached out and grabbed her own wand from Snape's hand and immediately started firing hexes at the two Death Eaters at the other end.

There were now four of them against two, not counting Voldemort himself, of course, who continued to stand there unmoving, letting his Death Eaters do all the work. Harry felt certain they had a good chance against the remaining Death Eaters and they could worry about Voldemort later. Nonetheless, neither of the Death Eaters seemed to find it difficult to hold off their hexes and each got a considerable number of their own in as well.

All of a sudden, another loud crack shattered the air around them. Harry spun around, looking at the room from all sides. He knew that someone had apparated or disapparated but he couldn't see –

"Harry!" cried Ginny.

Harry was still spinning around when Ginny landed a hex from the far corner at the Death Eater who had just apparated directly behind Harry. He fell to the floor immobilized. Harry turned around quickly, picked up his wand, and snapped it in two.

"That's one wizard debt," muttered Ginny to herself.

There was now only one Death Eater left fighting yet he continued to fly hexes at all of them while fending off their own. Harry and Ginny were moving closer together as stray wand fire continued to break away pieces of wall behind them.

"Ginny," said Harry. "We've got to separate. Give him two targets!"

"I know."

Harry poised himself to leap into the far corner but just as he was about to move, he felt Ginny snake her arm around his waist. He felt like he had been unexpectedly splashed in the face with a sensuous rush of warm seawater as Ginny pulled him into a brief but passionate kiss and then pushed him away just as suddenly.

Harry looked down at her, sure that she had stopped his racing heart between beats.

"Just in case," she said.

Harry and Ginny hurled themselves to either side as a hex flew straight down the center of the room to the spot they had both been standing less than a second before. They both straightened and began firing back.

There was another loud crash and Hermione and Ron's makeshift shelter exploded into pieces. The lone remaining conscious Death Eater raised his wand to fire at Ron and Hermione again who now lay exposed in the center of the room. Hermione and Ron ducked to either side to avoid the hex; it missed its target but in the shuffle, Hermione's wand fell out of her grasp and she inadvertently kicked it away further down into the room. Harry and Ginny let off another hail of hexes that each missed the quickly moving Death Eater but gave Ron and Hermione enough time to reach either side of the room's width in safety. Ron found a safe boulder to lodge himself behind and started to fire at the Death Eater along with the others. Hermione was not so lucky, however, but she pressed herself against the wall on her side and held her out her hand.

"Accio Wand!"

Her wand started to stir from its position on the floor but it just as it began to roll toward her, a sharp streak of green light flew out of a wand at the far end of the room and the wand was incinerated. Hermione looked up in surprise and saw Voldemort look down at his handiwork in brief satisfaction before replacing his wand in his robes, content to let his outnumbered Death Eater continue to fend off the others' hexes. Hermione realized he was only toying with them. She knew he allowed the battle to continue only for his own perverse curiosity, righting things only when they became too unbalanced against him. But she forced herself not to think of this. She knew that they had to keep going; it was all they could do. If Voldemort wanted to kill them, they would just have to make sure he had to do it himself.

"Hermione!" Ron cried suddenly.

Hermione turned around in time to see Ron throw his own wand across the room to her. She caught it instinctively.

"What about you?" she cried across the din.

"I've got cover. I'll manage!"

Ron ducked quickly behind his new barricade just as a well-placed hex blew a hole in the brass snake on the wall just above him. Hermione started to fire back at the Death Eater, desperate to divert his attention away from the defenseless Ron.

Ron took a quick peak out to see Lucius Malfoy's wand on the floor just inches away from where his stunned body lay near Ron. Ron thought of making a move for the wand but as a hex hit the floor just near him, he decided against it and continued to duck behind the wall on his side, hoping the others would succeed in carrying the battle to the Death Eater.

Ron could not see but heard another ominous crack and knew that more Death Eaters had arrived. He looked back quickly to see that three more Death Eaters had now appeared clustered closely around Voldemort and the other Death Eater. They began to fire. The sounds of wand fire grew more intense as the three Death Eaters and Harry, Hermione, and Ginny fired back and forth across the length of the room.

Ginny looked across to Harry and saw his attention fully fixed on throwing hex after hex at the Death Eaters. She slowly edged her way up the wall on her side hoping he still wouldn't notice.

She had seen the wizard who had once been Tom Riddle standing near the door that led to the kitchens at the far end, watching them as though seeing a far-away fight. He was hardly taller than she was however he had stood in her dreams. She knew that his poise and calm was only a façade, a face he wore like the masks of his followers to trick others as much as himself into believing in the fantasy of his power, just as he had tried to trick Ginny.

But he wouldn't trick her again. Suddenly oblivious to the hexes flying around her head, Ginny made her way toward the center of the room, just behind where Hermione was now firing frantically at the Death Eater behind her. She still did not look over at Harry; she hoped he wasn't looking at her and if he was that he said nothing. She was now as certain as she'd ever been that Voldemort was afraid of her. He hadn't meant for her to get this far. Ginny didn't know what power it was she possessed that frightened him so deeply but she did know that while Harry, Hermione, and Ron could handle themselves against the Death Eaters, it was only she who could take out Voldemort. She didn't know quite how but she knew she had to try the only way she knew.

Ginny could swear she saw the eyes of the Death Eater to Voldemort's right widen as he watched her approach but the Dark Lord himself continued to look out to the center of the room. Finally, the Death Eater threw a hex in her direction. It flew toward Hermione first and she ducked. The hex flew over her head and skimmed just over Ginny's but the younger Gryffindor did not falter. She kept running, leaped over Hermione who was still lying on the ground, and ran straight into the path of the three Death Eaters who stood around Voldemort at the far end.

"Ginny!" cried Hermione in amazement.

Harry turned around and saw with horror what was happening.

"Ginny, no!" he cried.

But Ginny ignored them both. She kept running hard and dodged two more closely struck hexes. A broadside of shots came from Harry and Hermione at the two Death Eaters nearest her. They both flinched and ducked and at that moment, Ginny saw a clear shot to Voldemort.

And the Dark Lord turned around, looked at her, and froze.

Ginny raised her wand to strike but just as the curse reached her lips, she stopped. And in that moment she finally understood why she could not afford to take her shot. She hesitated, still staring at Voldemort, her wand in front of her, not sure what to do. And that extra moment of hesitation proved very costly.

The three Death Eaters standing next to Voldemort recovered their balance quickly and each flung a killing curse at Ginny. Ginny threw herself to the floor at the last minute but the curses flew hard into the wall behind her. Large chunks of stone and a brass snake rained down on top of where she was lying. She threw her arms over her head and hoped it would be enough.

"NOOO!" cried Harry.

He watched helpless as the space where Ginny had been standing a moment before was buried in rubble. A large cloud of thick plaster filled the air but when it was gone, nothing stirred underneath.

Harry stared at the spot in disbelief, his wand hanging limply to his side. He did not hear Hermione cry out a warning or notice until it was too late that a hex had been sent in his own direction. A sharp pain suddenly stung his hand and his wand broke into pieces even before it had hit the floor. Harry looked down at his hand and saw it had turned a horrible shade of purple. A sticky, hairy fungus-like substance was sprouting painfully from his palm and spreading quickly up his arm. Harry felt like someone had lit a fast-spreading fire underneath his skin.

He looked up, his vision blurred even underneath his glasses, and what he saw made him feel even worse. Lucius Malfoy had woken and was reaching for his wand. Ron was still crouched behind and could not see him. Harry tried to cry out, even as he felt the rash start to consume the right side of his body, but no sound could come out of his mouth. He watched in horror as Malfoy reached for his wand and closed in right on top of Ron. The other Death Eaters could see what was happening and concentrated their fire on Hermione who desperately tried to fend off three hexes at once.

Ron felt a hand reach over and pick him up from the ground. The next thing he knew he was looking right into Malfoy's face.

"Mr. Weasley," Malfoy hissed. "Won't your father be proud?"

Malfoy raised his wand.

Harry looked over and saw that Hermione was still in no position to help. He was certain Ron had less than seconds to live if he didn't do something immediately. Without realizing he had even thought of it, he reached awkwardly with his remaining good left arm into his right hand pocket. He took the Space Catcher gingerly in his hand and flung it as hard as he could toward Malfoy.

"Avada Ke-"

Malfoy's face twisted briefly in shock as he felt something soft land on the back of his head and then sensed the world pull away in front of him. Before Ron's astonished eyes, both he and his wand vanished into thin air.

Harry tried to grin but his mouth seemed to twitch uncontrollably. His eyes smarted and blurred and he fell to the ground as his legs went numb. He heard the faraway sounds of intense battle and was briefly aware of something large and brown half-running, half-diving before him. He heard a muffled voice, felt a flash of light and then suddenly everything was clear again and Harry could see three hexes streaming hard at him. He ducked and felt Hermione land on top of him.

"Just try and do your Herbology better next time, Harry!" came a frantic voice.

He and Hermione untangled themselves as another hex landed in the spot where they had been sitting. Harry saw Hermione throw her wand back to Ron and run dangerously back to the corner of the room to grab another from a fallen Death Eater. Harry could see she was about to move to get yet another for Harry but two well-placed hexes made Hermione duck to the far corner of the room again. It was obvious she had been spotted and couldn't try anything more. For the time being, Harry was defenseless.

Harry's eyes darted around quickly for another wand as another hex found its way in his direction. Looking just ahead of him, he could see that another of the fallen Death Eaters, the one who had stood to Voldemort's left when they had entered the room was now beginning to stir. His eyes widening, he could see that the Death Eater's wand lay inches away from his hand. He looked up to see Ron and Hermione continuing to battle the Death Eaters who stood around Voldemort. He knew that neither of them had seen the Death Eater stir, nor could they afford to break away from their own fight to knock the Death Eater out again. Yet Harry could also see that it wouldn't be long before the Death Eater completely regained consciousness and recovered his wand and when he did, Harry would have no means of defending himself.

In three long strides, Harry darted away from the wall, hoping that Hermione and Ron could keep the other Death Eaters occupied for long enough. He dived for the fallen Death Eater's wand but before he could close his hands over it the Death Eater came to life and grabbed hold of his ankle hard.

The room tumbled before Harry's eyes as he stumbled to the ground, unable to break his fall. Ignoring the unpleasant sensation of trickling blood down his chin, Harry looked up to see the Death Eater reach the wand first and raise it up toward Harry but he was still a step too slow. Before he could strike, Harry grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side. The wand rolled to the floor again to the Death Eater's right. Harry tried to reach for it but the Death Eater blocked his path and Harry's hand collided with the side of his head instead. As he did so, the Death Eater's mask came away from his face.

Both of them stopped immediately.

"You!" Harry cried, surprised at the savageness in his own voice. "You!"

As soon as he had turned around to see Bellatrix Lestrange holding Hermione in the alcove where they had first been ambushed by the Death Eaters, Harry had found his mind consumed with how he would avenge himself on her for Sirius' death but as he stared down at the maskless Death Eater in front of him now, he found that a far, far greater vengeance and hate rose from within him. Without this Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange would still be in Azkaban prison; Voldemort would have never returned; Cedric and Sirius would still be alive.

And so would Harry's parents.

Then when the vengeance had boiled inside him to such an extent that Harry was sure he would burst if it wasn't released, he grabbed his hands around Wormtail's neck and squeezed.

Wormtail squealed like a pig, his eyes opened wide in fear. He tried to move his arms and legs but found they were frozen. Harry just squeezed even tighter.

"I should have stopped you when I had the chance!" cried Harry hoarsely. "I should have let them kill you!"

Harry dug his nails further into Wormtail's neck, oblivious to the further sounds of battle all around him. He found himself starting to wonder how far he would actually go when suddenly his hands were clutching nothing but air. He fell to the floor. For a moment he was certain Wormtail must have disapparated but then he felt something scurrying underneath his chest. He looked up, his eyes darting back and forth frantically, before he spotted a small rat, its pulse pounding away in its sore neck and a missing paw on its toe.

Harry dived for the rat but it scurried away underneath a pile of rubble. He started to tear the stones apart but the loud crack of wand fire hissed just over his head and exploded the rubble right into his eyes. Harry turned around hard as he felt pinpricks of pain erupt all over his face. There was a large crack in the front of his glasses through which he could see that one of the other Death Eaters had moved forward to attack him. In a rush of unfulfilled fury, Harry quickly snatched up Wormtail's wand and landed a hex squarely on his stomach before he could fire another shot. The Death Eater cried out and landed hard on his back.

Flattening himself against the wall, Harry turned around again as a cry of victory went up from Ron. He looked down to see that the Death Eater to the right of Voldemort was now knocked out on the floor. Another tried to run to take his place but Hermione and Ron landed a hex on him at the same time and he fell also.

Now there was one left again. Voldemort remained just in front of the door that led back to the kitchens, still unmoving. Harry watched warily as Ron and Hermione broke out from their hiding places and tore hard at the Death Eater at the same time, as if they had made up their minds that Voldemort himself might as well not be standing there. Not sure at all of their tactics, Harry nonetheless ran in himself behind their cover, hoping desperately to see a stray wand on the ground. The Death Eater fended off one curse but the others kept coming too close and too fast. Finally, a curse from Hermione hit him in the forehead and he bounded hard against the wall.

All of the Death Eaters had been taken out.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione quickly threw three hexes that hit Voldemort at the same time. His wand quickly raised in his hand, the Dark Lord deflected each of them with the grace of an artist brushing a painting on canvas.

None of the three tried to fire a second time.

"I really must congratulate you, Harry, and your friends," Voldemort said calmly. "It seems you have left me without the defense of my Death Eaters."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not believe this for instant and each of them continued to look around the room, certain that a fresh group of Voldemort's supporters would apparate behind them at any moment.

"But I think three against one is hardly fair," added Voldemort.

Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He tightened his grip on his wand and was about to open his mouth to speak when Ron cried out:

"If you want to kill us, go right ahead. But I'm not leaving this spot!"

"Neither of us is afraid to die for Harry!" added Hermione stridently.

Harry wanted to open his mouth again but his throat seemed to have dried up completely.

Voldemort turned around to look at Hermione with the patient regard of a teacher whose ill-mannered student has just spoken out of turn.

"Is that so?" he declared. "So be it then."

Voldemort pointed his wand at the ceiling and flicked it across like a knife.

Hermione and Ron's hands flew to their ears as an ear-splitting crash echoed throughout the room.

"Look out!" cried Harry. He ran forward, his wand pointing to the ceiling.

Ron and Hermione looked up just in time to see three large cracks slice through the tall ceiling from just to their end of the central candelabra right to the edge of the wall underneath which they now stood.

"Run! Run!" cried Harry.

Hermione and Ron stared up the ceiling for a moment longer and then ran forward toward the center of the room just as it began to collapse above them.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw that the chunks of rock which had supported the ceiling were nearly as thick as the height of a grown man. Chairs, tables, and cauldrons plummeted down after them from the Potions classroom high above. Harry watched as Hermione and Ron sprinted toward him but he could see in horror that they would never make it in time. He took aim with his wand at one enormous slab of rock headed straight for Ron's head but Voldemort deflected his beam harmlessly to the side. He could see his two best friends shouting and pointing their wands at the rock but it didn't seem to have an effect.

And above the din of falling stone Harry could still make out the horrible high-pitched laughter of the thing that killed everyone that had ever loved him and that he himself had ever tried to love.

With a final ear-splitting roar, the ceiling crashed to the ground. A thick dust rose from the ground and choked Harry's lungs. When most of it settled, a few moments later, Harry looked out through a thick haze to see that where his friends had once stood there was now only a tall pile of rubble that covered the ground of what had once been an entire third of the room. He didn't see how anyone could have survived under that.

For one last hopeful moment, Harry wondered if Voldemort might have been trapped also but then the Dark Lord emerged through the dust like a horrible monster coming out of the foggy shadows of a nightmare to horrible to consider in waking thoughts.

Voldemort absently brushed a thick cloud of plaster away from his robes and walked slowly toward Harry, his wand outstretched. He stopped a safe distance from the rubble.

"Raise your wand now, Harry," he said. "And tell me the truth. I prefer it this way, don't you? Just you and me, Harry Potter. Just you and me."

But no sooner had Voldemort finished speaking than the sound of shifting rock emerged from somewhere to his left. Harry looked up at Voldemort, expecting another ruse, but he found that if appearances could be trusted, Voldemort seemed just as surprised as he. Both of them looked over toward the sound, each seeming to wonder whether friend or foe would emerge.

Ginny Weasley squeezed out of the last of the large slabs of stone that had pinned her to the ground. She stood up, flecks of white plaster streaking through her long red curls and took in the scene from all of the dreams that the Dark Lord had given her.

Ginny did not say a word. Without hesitation, she walked into the center of what remained of the room, stood between the two combatants, and then turned around and pointed her wand straight at Voldemort.


	23. The Two Sorcerer

Chapter 23

The Two Sorcerers

"No, Ginny!" Harry cried desperately. "Get away! Get yourself out of here!"

"No, Harry," Ginny cried back not daring to turn her head away from Voldemort for even an instant. "It's my choice, remember?"

Harry did not respond. He felt as a spider must feel when a malicious child has pulled off all of its legs but one. He was certain that at any moment he would hear Voldemort's horrid high-pitched laughter and Ginny's fatal screams. He knew just as surely that as soon as he did, he would have no strength left to fight.

But neither screams nor laughter followed.

Ginny continued to keep her wand pointed at Voldemort, fighting to keep a grip on a handle slippery with her own sweat. She hoped the dark wizard could not see how much her hand was shaking.

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am!" she hissed at him across the room.

Perhaps it was Ginny's imagination but she was certain she saw Voldemort take a half step backward. His eyes narrowed for a moment in surprise, then the practiced mask fell again and his lipless mouth formed into a hideous smile.

"Why do you think I would want to pretend such a thing, Ginny?" he answered. "You may not enjoy my appearance as much as that of my younger self but as I told you before, we are still good friends."

"I thought your younger self was a toad-faced prick," Ginny spat. "If anything, your appearance is an improvement."

Voldemort laughed in response, though his laughter no longer seemed as high and chilling as before.

"Surely now, Ginny," he said. "You didn't always find me so loathsome. My younger self remembered things differently."

Ginny took a large step toward Voldemort in response.

"It won't work," she told him between clenched teeth. "Nothing you say or do will draw me away from this spot."

Voldemort twirled his wand absently in his hand as if considering whether he intended to use it.

"Be careful now, Ginny," he chided, his lower jaw beginning to set in a way that his resemblance to Tom Riddle became noticeable for the first time. "Naturally, I wouldn't want anything to come between the two of us but Harry did make me suffer for a very long time. Killing his friends is not enough for me, Ginny. I know you understand and I wouldn't want it to come between us. That is why I need you to get out of the way."

Ginny took another step forward.

"I must confess. I'm somewhat surprised to see you standing here right now. You were never this brave in your dreams."

Ginny's mouth broke into the ghost of a smile. She knew that the monster standing across from her would never understand how or why things had changed. Ginny wasn't sure she understood herself. All she knew was that the surge of warmth that had lit like a fire in her belly the moment Harry's lips had touched hers still seemed to flow through her soul, heightening her every sense and feeling. There was no place within her that was afraid of Voldemort now.

"All those dreams," she said evenly. "Different each time but always the duel with Harry. You wanted to make sure I didn't interfere, didn't you? That was what obsessed you about me, wasn't it? You hoped I could lead you to Harry, yes, but you also knew I was the one person who could stop you and you wanted to make very sure I wasn't here at the end. That's why you told Snape to find and kill me. But here I am."

Voldemort laughed again, long and hard, but Ginny did not flinch.

"You suppose a great deal, Ginny," he said finally. "Could it be that much of Harry's arrogance has rubbed off on you already?"

Ginny gripped her wand more firmly.

"If you want me out of the way, you're going to have to kill me, and we both know that is something you cannot do."

There was an indeterminable moment of silence. It was all Ginny could do to resist the urge to turn back and look at Harry who, to his credit, remained silent. She knew that in a few seconds she would either be dead or right.

"I see now, Ginny," Voldemort finally said as though trying to come to terms with the logic of a truculent child. "You believe that if you sacrifice yourself for Harry, then I will be killed – or banished – as I was when his mudblood mother forced me to end her interference by taking her life. But I overcame that obstacle once and for all when my Death Eaters attacked Harry's home earlier this year. I would hate to see you sacrifice yourself for nothing."

"As I said, if you want me out of the way, you're going to have to kill me."

Voldemort's jaw set again and fire burst to his eyes. Ginny held her breath as he raised his wand and opened the slit that passed for his mouth to curse her. But then, as if winning a struggle with his own internal passions, he lowered it again.

"You can't kill me," said Ginny with greater conviction. "You can't even disarm me. That's how you made that diary, wasn't it? The Synchronis Totalis charm? The students in the class were only linked for a few seconds but the diary was much more powerful. I imagine you and I share a link that is somewhat more permanent. Any spell you cast against me will be shared by us both, won't it? How does it feel, Tom? You made yourself my nightmare but now I have become yours!"

For a moment there was only the sound of Ginny's sudden fury echoing through the broken walls of the room. Then Voldemort managed an extremely forced smile.

"Very well, Ginny," he said. "It seems for the moment, you have earned my indulgence. The young are never as strong or as wise as they believe. I was no exception. We had learned the Synchronis Totalis spell just as Harry did and I learned to master the link for days on end. It was an excellent means of communicating with those who would later become my Death Eaters and in ensuring their loyalty. Soon afterward we learned of a potion that was based on a similar principle. I used it to enchant my diary and enable the self I had trapped within its pages to link to and control the minds of any who might stumble across it.

"But it was only in my last year at Hogwarts that I discovered my plan had a horrible flaw. Anyone who used the diary would also share a spell link with its creator – in this case, my real self. Moreover, since I had left the diary for anyone to find, I had no idea who that would be. I might strike an enemy dead only to share back the same curse.

"I quickly retrieved the diary. I thought of destroying it but I was afraid it could be re-enchanted by any wizard with enough power to understand its principles – Albus Dumbledore, perhaps, or even one of my own Death Eaters with conflicting ambitions and loyalties. So I kept the diary among my possessions.

"I did not count, of course, on my own demise. While I was banished, my possessions fell into the hands of those Death Eaters with the resources to keep them from the prying eyes of the Ministry, those, of course, who had also managed to stay out of Azkaban prison."

Voldemort's smile became noticeably hollow.

"And so the diary fell into the hands of my faithful friend Lucius Malfoy who was completely ignorant of its power and the lengths to which I had taken to conceal it. He, of course, had his own nefarious agenda and so it fell to you, Ginny. Of course, at that time, I was barely a thing to which anything could be linked. And then Harry destroyed the diary and returned it to Lucius who, this time, was finally wise enough to give it back to me."

Voldemort paused for a moment. Ginny continued to grab her wand tightly, not at all fooled by his apparent relaxed posture.

"And I read into the diary again, Ginny," he hissed, "and discovered its secrets. I knew I could use it to trap Harry once and for all but to do so I had to link again with you, a tepid link as I could only recover the ghost of my original spell. But with the help of the Monocellate crystal and our proximity, I returned the link to the strength of its original, only this time I am very much alive. And now I am left with both its curse and its blessing."

And then the Dark Lord smiled more fully.

"Shall we see which will prevail?"

There was a loud crack. Ginny was already running toward Harry who, after a moment's stunned hesitation, had started to cross back to her. A split-second later, Voldemort apparated behind Harry. He had just raised his wand to strike when Ginny ducked to Harry's side and dived behind him to block Voldemort's hex once again.

Ginny was still on the floor when Voldemort disapparated a second time. Her eyes darted around the room, spotting his bony form in one of the large candelabras that still hung above them. She shoved Harry to the ground and jumped on top of him.

The cracking sounds came hard and fast after that as Voldemort re-apparated into different corners of the room while Ginny and Harry moved and parried like fencers writ large. They flattened themselves against the back wall to cut down on Voldemort's angles yet still the Dark Lord's journeys in space continued. But still he did not strike. Though Ginny had not been completely certain before, it was now clear that were she to so much as get in the way of a curse intended for Harry, the spell would also return to its sender.

Finally, Voldemort apparated back to his original position, then let his wand fall down to his side and smiled.

"Tell me, Ginny," he cooed. "How do you like our little stalemate? Is this the victory you hoped to achieve? Are you pleased at the clever little girl you've become?"

"If killing Harry is so important to you, why didn't you just take your best shot?" Ginny retorted, panting. "You didn't want to take the chance, did you? I doubt your own Death Eaters know you as I do," she suggested, angry energy lighting her face. "It's not really Harry you're after, is it? It's what he reminds you of – your own fear of weakness and death. And what good would it do to kill Harry if there was the slightest chance you would kill yourself instead? But I could think of no better way to die than to save Harry and rid the world of you!"

Voldemort's smile faded and his face hardened. He disapparated again. Ginny and Harry looked around in the room again, wondering where the Dark Lord would appear this time. But after a few seconds, he was still nowhere to be found. Ginny felt her pulse quicken as she grabbed Harry to her. She wasn't sure what Voldemort was planning this time, but she wasn't going to –

Harry suddenly grabbed his scar and cried out in pain.

"Harry!" cried Ginny, pulling him toward her. "What – "

Harry stopped screaming almost immediately. He stood up, still in Ginny's arms. She looked into his face and knew right away that the arrogant zeal that now blazed out from Harry's eyes no longer belonged to the person she loved. But before she could react, Harry hands had reached up for her throat.

"And what if you had to kill Harry to rid the world of me?" he hissed. "What then, Ginny?"

Ginny screamed but before Harry's hands could close around her neck, he seemed to freeze. The sadistic pleasure written on his face only a moment before fell away and in its place was a look of a surprise. His body tensed and sweat broke out all over his face. Ginny sensed he was fighting an enormous internal battle. She thought briefly of moving away so that his hands could not find their way back to her throat but then checked her impulse. She was going to win this fight with him together.

With what seemed like an almighty effort, Harry forced himself to his knees and bellowed as though he was driving out hell itself from his body:

"GO AWAY!"

Harry sank further to his knees and panted. Voldemort apparated once again in front of them.

"You can't control me," he said to the Dark Lord defiantly, getting to his feet. "I've learned to resist you now!"

Voldemort looked back at Harry and Ginny with the same expression of arrogant loathing that Ginny had seen only moments coming out from Harry's own eyes. But so absorbed were Ginny and Harry in tensing themselves for his next strategy that neither noticed the sound of movement to their right that was the source of the Dark Lord's continued confidence.

"It is indeed a pity you did not choose to join my side, Harry. I must admit I respect your cunning. How many wizards have ever before had so many willing to die to protect them?"

Harry snorted in disgust.

"I wonder, Ginny," Voldemort mused, turning his attention to her again, in a chilling imitation of gentleness. "Why did Harry suddenly decide to return your feelings now, when he knew how much danger he was in?"

"Don't try to talk about things you can't understand."

Voldemort could not have looked more like a Cheshire Cat if he had transfigured into one.

"Did he tell you he loved you, Ginny?" he hissed. "I was listening. I don't recall hearing those magic words. Perhaps he couldn't quite bring himself to complete the lie."

Ginny paused. She knew that Harry had not told her he loved her. But she also felt sure he had meant it. There was nothing and no one who could convince her that his kiss hadn't been real. She knew that now that Voldemort had tried and failed to defeat them by any other means that he was attempting to twist and manipulate her feelings again. She was determined not to let him.

But Voldemort did not need to convince Ginny of anything this time. He only needed the tiny moment he had taken to make her stop and think in order to point his wand to her right and cry:

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Ginny froze. She watched the charm leave Voldemort's wand and strike three large rocks that had held in position a suddenly conscious Severus Snape, a new wand out of his cloak and in his hand.

Harry's wand was raised in a flash.

"Stup – "

"Expelliarmus! Immobilus!"

Snape was not even yet standing when Harry's wand could be heard flying off the wall behind him. Harry tried to move for it but found himself stuck to the spot.

The room was filled with the Dark Lord's high cruel laughter again.

"I trust you do not share a link with Professor Snape, Ginny?"

Ginny did not respond.

Voldemort turned to Snape.

"Dispose of her," he said dispassionately. "Then leave Potter to me."

Ginny heard Harry's helpless cry from somewhere just behind her but she did not turn to see the anguished look on his face. Nor did she see Snape's unusually full smile as he slowly walked toward her, limping slightly at first but then with more confident strides. She had no intention of taking her eyes or her wand away from Voldemort's wide thin mouth and hungry eyes, knowing as he did that he hadn't been able to defeat her himself. That if it were not for Snape's timely reappearance, he would still be tasting the helplessness and failure he had always inflicted on her as he had for the time she'd resisted him. In the end, her body and mind had not done his bidding.

But Ginny also knew well before she heard the swish and flick of Snape's wand drawing the air around it that on this, the happiest day of her life, she was going to die. In the moment the curse that was sure to end her life seemed to linger on Snape's lips, Ginny finally realized what Harry had meant an eternity ago that morning when he had told her that he was not afraid to die. Like a firefly burning the night's sky for a few short days of life, Ginny knew that she had lived one perfect moment, however fleeting, in the passion of Harry's kiss and the courage to face the architect of the demon spirits that had haunted her since the day she had first opened her diary half a life ago.

Ginny tensed her hand on her wand one last time and, smiling at Voldemort, barely heard Snape when he said:

"Aparecium Restorem."

Voldemort staggered backwards in horror, Harry gasped, and Ginny turned her head around just in time to see Severus Snape transform into Albus Dumbledore.

Ginny's jaw had not fully dropped when Dumbledore's face filled with an uncharacteristic fury. He pointed his wand at Voldemort and cried out again.

"Disapparatus Impedimenta!"

Voldemort tried to twist his away but both his body and will seemed to lack the strength with which he had so deftly dodged the hexes of the others. At the last moment, he appeared to throw up some kind of a shield but Dumbeldore's curse broke through it and clipped what on an ordinary human would have been a left shoulder.

A loud cracking noise filled the room and then another but Voldemort remained where he stood.

Dumbledore flicked his wand in Harry's direction. Harry found himself free to move and saw his wand flying back toward his open hand. He and Ginny did not need to be told to make themselves scarce as the two most powerful wizards of the age began to circle each other. But in the instant of flight, they chose opposite walls to flee to. Ginny started to run back toward Harry, but the latter raised his arms and shook his head. Reluctantly realizing it would be far too dangerous to move now, Ginny retreated and flattened herself against the wall behind her.

"Good afternoon, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly, holding his wand between the tips of his fingers. "Thank you for removing those stones. I feel much more myself now."

Voldemort made a sound like a snake spitting venom.

"Your plan to kill Harry has failed," Dumbledore continued, almost apologetically. "I am here to defeat you, Tom."

Voldemort suddenly laughed.

"You overreach yourself, Dumbledore. But no matter. If you wish to try then so be it. I am not as you always remember your student. I have long learned patience. I shall be happy to take the time to kill both you and Potter today."

A green bead of light erupted from Voldemort's wand. Rather than shooting straight toward Dumbledore, the light seemed to curve and twist in the air like a lasso. Dumbledore tried to duck out of the way but the hex followed him.

Just as it seemed he would be caught, however, Dumbledore leaped up and somersaulted high into the air. Before Ginny's spellbound eyes, the headmaster hung himself upside down from a candelabra above them. When the curse came down toward him, he drew it into his outstretched wand and with a fierce crack volleyed it back toward Voldemort just as the Dark Lord had rebounded Sirius' curse earlier.

Voldemort leapt to his feet just as the hex blew a hole in the floor where he'd stood. He, too, vaulted high off the ground apparently without the need to cast a charm.

Ginny watched astounded as Dumbledore and Voldemort tossed and turned in the air like birds, not shouting a word, but casting hex after hex, filling the room with deafening booms and blinding flashes of light. Suddenly, clouds of smoke erupted from each of their wands, filling the room with an acrid stench and blinding the combatants from sight. But just when either Dumbledore or Voldemort seemed to disappear completely into the swirling fog, they would return again in the flurry of a billowing cloak or the fury of a rapid flash of wand fire.

Finally the air cleared completely and Ginny was shocked to discover that where before two fierce wizards had fought, there were now two enormous birds, one the color of red on a scraped bruise, and the other a deep sea green. At the front of each were enormous talons that lashed out accompanied by the vicious snarls of each creature. One of the birds delivered a sharp hex with its talon that caught hold of the other's wing. Just when a wound seemed to spread and the bird started to pitch toward the ground, however, it suddenly changed into an enormous snake whose curled tail pooled in coils on the ground. The snake's skin glistened in all of the colors of the rainbow and changed in tone and pattern with every beat of its heart. The snake had fiery green eyes and a silvery tongue which continued to spit hexes at the bird.

The bird swooped and dived around the snake to avoid its fire. As it pitched down just in front of the snake, however, it suddenly transfigured into a serpent identical to its adversary's. The new snake coiled around the other and for several moments the bodies of both remained tangled while the heads rapidly tried to disengage themselves for a clear shot at close quarters.

Finally the outer snake dropped down from the inner and transfigured into a brilliant white unicorn whose horn shot hexes at the snake's long neck. Just as it seemed that one of the shots would hit home, however, the snake transfigured again into a haughty-looking Hippogriff that circled the unicorn with an enormous beating of its wings. The Hippogriff launched hexes from its talons that the unicorn parried with graceful ease.

Finally, the Hippogriff changed back into Voldemort who charged hard at the unicorn, his robes skimming the ground but his feet never touching. Just as Voldemort's wand seemed about to make contact with the belly of the unicorn, however, it changed back into Dumbledore, who ducked to one side and kicked the oncoming Voldemort hard in the ribs.

Voldemort landed on the ground and rolled over quickly, effortlessly dodging Dumbledore's hex. Soon both wizards were back on their feet, throwing and dodging hexes with eye-numbing speed.

Ginny exchanged a brief glance across the width of the room with Harry to see an expression that matched her own feeling of fear and awe. She could see that in the heat of battle, Harry, like her, had not been able to tell the two wizards apart. Not only that, it was difficult to say whether their now more familiar forms were any more as real.

* * *

The true servant of Albus Dumbledore did not pause for breath as he bounded up the final staircase to the Astronomy Tower. He knew that far too much precious time had been wasted already. He tried not to think whether those with whose care he had been entrusted had been able to survive this long. The army of aurors was awaiting his signal. He hoped that Dumbledore had managed to distract the Dark Lord's attention long enough that the army's passage would go unnoticed when it left the net of isolation he had worked to throw up around the tower.

The true servant of Albus Dumbledore could see the dim light coming from the windows in the hallway above. A few more steps and –

The thoughts and progress of the servant were suddenly cut off by a bright flash of green light that cut across his path like a deadly rope. He flattened himself against the wall, panting hard, but nonetheless allowed himself an ironic smile when the distant daylight caught a silvery mane of hair standing in front of him.

"Well," said Lucius Malfoy. "I suppose some people are hard to kill."

The servant darted back onto the steps and threw his own hex at Malfoy who quickly ducked. The hex shattered an elaborate carving of a Gryffin on the staircase railing.

"You seem remarkably agile and well-trained for the dithering idiot you have led many people to believe that you are."

The servant did not respond.

"Forgive me," said Malfoy. "But I do not believe that you are who you appear to be."

Malfoy darted back into the opening, ducked and rolled as another hex flew over his head, and came up firing.

"Aparecium Restorem!" he shrieked.

The figure of the servant shone in the light of Malfoy's counter-charm for the briefest of moments but even as its glow faded, the servant could already see on Malfoy's face a wide-eyed stare and a pallor devoid of any color.

Malfoy staggered backwards.

"Y – you," he managed to splutter.

* * *

Harry watched as two identically forest green Norwegian Ridgebacks circled the small space of the room. The floor and what remained of the ceiling were now black with soot. The light in the room was also much dimmer as all but two of the brass snake lantern holders had either been blasted to the floor or melted down by the fierce heat of the two dueling dragons.

Harry looked across the width of the room. In spite of all that had occurred and all that was going on around him, he could not help but notice the way the soft light shone in Ginny's crimson hair like the dying embers of a fire. But it was already too dim for Harry to see Ginny's face clearly and that made him worry a great deal for when Harry had last seen Ginny, she had appeared extremely pale. He had a horrible feeling that Ginny's near-death experience was sending her into some kind of shock. Harry hardly felt he knew how to feel after what had happened to Hermione and Ron but he knew that he couldn't bear to lose Ginny as well. He very much wanted to cross over to her but he was also afraid that doing so would make them both targets, whereas so far Voldemort's attention seemed to have been fully occupied with fighting off Dumbledore. He thought of trying to get her out but looking back to the door to the passageway they had entered, he saw that it was much too blocked by rubble for an easy escape.

A sudden crack ripped through the air and tore Harry's attention away from Ginny and back to the battle at hand. It took him a moment to realize that only one dragon remained, its hind legs perched up on top of the debris that had buried Ron and Hermione and the top of its head reaching out of sight above the hole in the ceiling. Its eyes darted around angrily as it snorted tongues of flame from out of its nostrils.

For a horrible moment, Harry feared that Voldemort had broken free from Dumbledore's de-apparation jinx. Harry began to look around to see where he might reappear, his wand held out in front of him. He hoped that Ginny was doing the same.

A loud crack announced a re-apparation. The Ridgeback's head swung around violently. Harry saw just before the dragon did that Dumbledore had re-apparated in human form right underneath the towering beast and was aiming his wand at its belly.

Of course, thought Harry. Voldemort could no longer disapparate but Dumbledore could. He must have apparated into the castle with the other Death Eaters, posing as Snape. Harry watched as Dumbledore took aim but just as he seemed poised to let off a hex, the dragon (who was now obviously Voldemort) hissed a column of flame at the ground. Dumbledore disapparated again just as the flames torched the space where he'd stood.

Within seconds, Dumbledore re-apparated again on top of the rubble behind Voldemort, this time in the form of an animal Harry had never seen before: its head looked like an oversized version of Snitch and its tail took the shape of the long sloping fin of a giant fish. The fin ended in sharp claws which Dumbledore swung like an enormous hook in the direction of the dragon's legs.

But Harry could see even as Dumbledore apparated that he had made a serious strategic error. For on this occasion, Voldemort had not looked around for him in blind circles but had narrowed his attention to the room's far end where Harry and Ginny still stood, desperately trying to remain unnoticed. With a hungry gleam in its bright orange eyes, the dragon drew back its head and bellowed an inferno of flame down to where the two Gryffindors now stood.

Voldemort screamed and reared back as the thing Dumbledore had become slashed his wings with its tail. But the damage had already been done.

The side of Harry's body facing inward to the room burned with the heat of the towering wall of fire that now cannoned toward him and Ginny, incinerating the wood-paneled walls and melting away the remaining lanterns like giant wax candles. Harry saw right away that they would be torched where they stood within seconds if they did not move. He pointed his wand across to Ginny and cried:

"Synchronis Totalis!"

Harry paused for a moment he did not have, his next charm frozen between his mind and his lips as the fury of emotion at the very surface of Ginny's thoughts came rushing into his mind with an even greater intensity than the tongues of flame that danced toward them. Harry summoned all of his concentration and fired across to Ginny again, bellowing again the spell that would save her life:

"Levitatus!"

The charm had barely bounded back to him from Ginny's own wand when the fire closed in on top of them. Harry found himself thrown higher and faster than ever before. He looked across to see Ginny tossed through the air as he was. Harry shielded his face as the flames roared under them, then burned out on the stone floor and the now bare stone walls just as they started to fall back to the ground again. Harry managed to use his training with Nevins to control his landing again. His mind still burning with the raw fire of her emotions, Harry looked anxiously across at Ginny to see that she was controlling her fall in fits and starts. Her less graceful movements were carrying her dangerously far into the room in the direction of the battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore. She crashed down to the floor with an awkward twist of her ankle and a nasty cry of pain.

* * *

"Then – then – who," stammered Lucius Malfoy.

His eyes grew even wider as the truth began to dawn.

"Dumbledore," he hissed.

"It seems the Dark Lord may be in quite a bit of danger," remarked Snape coolly. "Perhaps you should apparate back to rescue him?"

Malfoy did not move.

"I thought not."

Malfoy managed to back out of his stunned reverie in time to avoid a hex that came close to clipping his ear.

"I always knew you were a traitor!" Malfoy bellowed, shooting a hex in return that widely missed its mark.

"You didn't seem so sure just then."

"You tried to turn Draco, didn't you?"

"On the contrary."

Snape's icy reply was followed by a hex that shattered the step underneath Malfoy's feet, causing him to grab onto the handrail above him to stop his fall.

"I gave up on your son years ago. I was only trying to use him to get to you and find out who had given away Potter's location. He is stupidly loyal to you, something your predictable arrogance prevented you from seeing years ago."

Malfoy tried to recover to throw another hex at Snape but his precarious balance and crippled nerves caused him to miss again.

"Draco was right about one thing," said Snape in a tone that was goading in its dispassion. "Being the Dark Lord's lapdog never suited you, Malfoy. Pity you didn't realize that until it was too late."

Before Malfoy could respond, Snape landed a vicious stunning spell on the side of his head. He did not spare the Death Eater another glance as he bounded up the stairs and ran to the Astronomy Tower.

* * *

Ginny dragged herself to the wall nearest her and tried to stay out of the range of the battle that stormed on almost on top of her. She was in the middle of the room now lengthwise and still on the opposite width from Harry. Trying desperately to ignore the crushing pain in what she was certain was a broken right ankle, Ginny forced herself into a position to cast a crude bone-mending charm that she hoped could keep her alert and ready to move.

The charm accomplished, Ginny turned her head back to the fight to see that Voldemort and Dumbledore had returned to what passed as their original forms. Dumbledore had charmed the candelabra above him into blazing light and Ginny could see that there were now several deep scars lining the side of Voldemort's face and disappearing down his neck inside his robes from where Dumbledore had slashed his dragon form. As the two wizards threw hexes furiously back and forth, however, she was shocked to see how weakened Dumbledore's movement seemed to have become. She realized in horror that he must still be smarting from the wounds that had pinned him to the ground when he was in Snape's form, wounds that had been weakened even further by his feral battle with the Dark Lord. Worse, Voldemort seemed to have noticed this, too, and he was purposely making Dumbledore move from left to right and back again to avoid his hexes.

"You shouldn't have come after me, Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed mockingly. "We both know it isn't your time or place anymore. I will make sure you understand the consequences of your arrogance."

Voldemort flicked his wand and sprung a wide arching hex like a fisherman casting a hex. Dumbledore tried to run out of the way but he was a step too slow. His wand flew out of his hands and sailed back through the air toward Voldemort.

And then Dumbledore turned into a house cat and a very small one at that.

The room rang once more with the sickening sound of Voldemort's laughter. He raised his wand at the cat which mustered all of its effort to jump up high as a hex hit the floor right underneath it.

The cat cried out again and again and Ginny had the horrible feeling it was trying to make itself into something larger but was no longer able to do so. Finally, it managed to weave its way into a mountain of rubble in a desperate attempt at self-defense.

Voldemort laughed again.

"A hex I prepared especially for you, Dumbledore, in anticipation of your interference. Not only will you not be able to transfigure back again but I think you'll find you've become something very ordinary, something I can kill rather easily."

Voldemort flung a killing curse into the pile of wreckage which exploded in a shower of wood and plaster. Ginny felt her heart sink but then she saw a flash of feline movement to the right of the hex as the cat disappeared again behind another pile.

There was a pause in which an uncommon silence filled the room. Voldemort stood looking into the debris that lined the outer walls of the room.

"Afraid to show ourselves, are we, Dumbledore?" he said at last. "No matter, my score is not with you in any case."

Too late, Ginny saw Voldemort turn his wand toward Harry. She stumbled to her feet. Desperately fighting away the stinging pain in her broken ankle, she started to run toward Harry, trying to put herself once again in the path of Voldemort's hex. She quickly realized, however, that even with a healthy pair of legs, she would never be able to bridge the gap between them in time.

This time, Ginny looked only at Harry who held his wand out in front of him. She knew it would not be enough. She heard the sound of Voldemort's wand slice through the air and heard him cry out:

"Avada Kedav – aaahhh!"

Ginny twisted her head back around to see that a small green creature with large pointed ears had appeared out of nowhere onto Voldemort's face.

"Evil, lying, awful, bad, bad Dark Lord!" cried Winky.

"VERMIN!" shrieked a muffled Voldemort, his hands flailing away at his face.

Ginny ran faster now, tears of pain soaring down her face.

With a loud wail, the cat jumped out of the pile of stones just behind Harry that had once held it pinned to the floor, another wand in its teeth. It dropped it at Harry's feet.

Voldemort grabbed hold of Winky by the throat and pulled her away from his face.

Harry picked up the wand.

Voldemort flung Winky hard against the wall to his left.

The cat cried out once more.

Winky landed with a sickening thud and slid slowly down the wall.

Voldemort took aim at Harry again.

Ginny kept running. She was almost there now.

Harry gripped the handle of his new wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Ginny stopped in her tracks as twin beads of light from Harry and Voldemort's wands connected at the halfway point of their shared trajectories. She took a step backward as the energy of the wand lights sizzled just as it had in her dreams. She continued to watch, her heart unable to beat as a gold link formed between the two wands.

"No!" cried Voldemort. "I cannot – I will not let him stop me this way again! H – how can this be? I – I have another wand!"

The cat let out a furious wail that belied its small size and re-transfigured as Dumbledore.

"A wand which I gave you, Tom," he said weakly. "And I also took the liberty of purchasing its pair which Harry now holds in his hand."

The energy from the wand link started to crackle more urgently.

"Ginny," said Dumbledore urgently. "I need your wand."

Ginny eyes widened. She was suddenly aware more than ever of the pain in her ankle as she watched the crackling light that separated her from Dumbledore, the light before which she had frozen in her nightmares. She thought of throwing the wand across as the light continued to seethe with angry energy but she realized she couldn't take the chance it would be hit in mid-flight and Dumbledore would lose his chance of saving Harry. She did not know what would happen if the energy touched her body but she doubted it would be anything good.

"Ginny, quickly!" cried Dumbledore. "Before they start to move away!"

Ginny watched as the wand in Harry's hand began to tremble. She recalled Harry's horrible screams in her dreams as Voldemort's death curse had slowly struck home. She also knew that if Harry was killed this time, she could never wake up from her nightmare.

Ginny clutched her wand tightly and rolled underneath the golden light that joined Voldemort to Harry. She felt the burning energy singe her skin and hair as she twisted around. When she opened her eyes again, she was on the other side. She flicked her wrist and tossed the wand straight into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

Ginny got to her feet in time to see that Harry's wand was vibrating more insistently in his hand and his feet were starting to lift off from the ground.

"Hold on!" she cried.

Whether Harry could hear her or not, Ginny did not know, but he gripped his wand with two white knuckles.

"Now, Harry!" cried Dumbledore, as Harry and Voldemort started to move away. "Let go!"

Harry yanked up his wand. He and Voldemort stopped moving and their feet returned to the ground. The golden light returned toward Voldemort who seemed unable to let go himself. At the same moment, Dumbledore took aim with Ginny's wand and trembled with effort as he flung a hex toward the would-be Dark Lord.

Both curses hit Voldemort squarely on the chest at exactly the same time. He flew high and fast into the air the clear length of the room and slammed hard back into the large pile of rubble at the end.

Dumbledore darted across the room with surprising speed for one who had seemed he could hardly stand just moments before. He was closely followed by Harry who grabbed Ginny against him. His shirt was soaked clear through with sweat. They hobbled behind Dumbledore and finally caught up to him as he stood in front of the rubble.

Dumbledore ended his urgent run quickly and waited calmly as Voldemort slid slowly down the rubble toward him. His expression was barely readable: it seemed he was neither triumphant in victory nor sad at the lengths to which that victory had taken them. He seemed to breathe very normally considering the battle he had just fought and the distance he had run. He held his wand calmly at his side, not yet ready to use it but not yet about to stow it away.

Ginny fought back the sick in her stomach as Voldemort left a long trail of slippery blood behind him on the rocks as he slid down toward them. As repulsed as she was, she still registered surprise that it was so red and human-looking. But then Ginny saw flecks of a viscous silvery substance swimming in clumps within the generous pools of red. She didn't want to begin to think it could be unicorn blood but somehow she already knew that it was.

Until the moment she saw his eyes blink above the repulsive grin on his face, Ginny was sure that Voldemort had to be dead. She didn't know how anyone could have survived in a collision like that, least of all with a peaceful-looking smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Dumbledore," Voldemort croaked, bubbles of blood seeping from his mouth down his chin along with a large glob of silver. "Your plan was cleverer than mine, your servants more loyal and more cunning."

Dumbledore did not respond. His expression did not even change.

"Or perhaps it was me," Voldemort went on, blood still leaking underneath him. "I was cursed, you see. The last of Harry Potter's tricks."

Voldemort paused and closed his eyes. Ginny was certain he had breathed his last but then his eyelids snapped open again to confound her.

"But you can't kill me, Dumbledore, can you? The twin prophecies prevent you. You can stack the odds against me but you can never win."

A red as deep as Voldemort's spilt blood crept slowly from Dumbledore's neck, flushed into his cheeks, and then spread all the way up to his snow white hairline. His lips did not part, nor did his gaze wander. He lifted his wand very slowly, pointed it at Voldemort's chest and bellowed so loudly Ginny was certain that the remainder of the ceiling would come crashing down around them:

"Spiritus Volare Mortalis!"

Voldemort's eyes widened in horror and he opened his mouth to cry out but only blood flowed out. Even though the blinding green light from Dumbledore's wand traveled a short distance at a tremendous speed, Ginny was sure she could watch it as it moved. Voldemort's body seemed to light up from the inside and when the light had vanished, his head lay at an awkward angle, cold and still.

Ginny couldn't take her eyes away from the fallen Dark Wizard. She regarded him with a morbid curiosity that did not abate as she continued to watch the red and silver blood seep out from under him. She tried to imagine that the creature who had lived in the shadows of her mind for so many years could really be trapped in this form and dead and she stared at his body as if she thought that by doing so long enough she might be able to convince herself even as part of her feared she never could.

Ginny was woken from the spell of her own making by the sound of the door to the main passageway on the other side of the room being blasted open. For a moment, she was afraid that more Death Eaters were arriving to avenge their fallen leader but she was surprised to see that out of the now open door sprang the real Professor Snape followed by Professor Nevins, Professor Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Following them were about a dozen or so other wizards and witches in short black cloaks whom Ginny recognized as field aurors. They were followed in turn by three wizards and a witch in white cloaks whom Ginny recognized as healers. Most of them paid little attention as they darted around the room, eyeing the unconscious Death Eaters warily and confiscating their wands. Lupin and Tonks ran over quickly, however, their wands held out in front of them.

"Is he – " Lupin began.

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

Harry showed no interest in the new arrivals. As soon as Dumbledore had finished casting his spell, he had fallen to his hands and knees and begun hauling large bloodstained stones away with his hands.

"Harry?" said Lupin.

"They're still under there somewhere!" Harry cried in response. "They're not dead! Hermione's too clever for that."

He laughed very unnaturally, his eyes already wet with tears.

Ginny fell to her knees beside him. She picked up a large slab of stone in her own hands, grief at the certain loss of her own brother begin to overcome her as well. But then she froze and sat up straight as if someone had shoved a rod of ice up her back.

She looked over and saw Dumbledore starting to raise his wand and gently call her and Harry back. Of course, she thought somewhere far in the back of her mind, Dumbledore could just enchant the stones away and they could, too, if they concentrated. Of course, when Voldemort –

Ginny suddenly reached the point where logical thoughts could no longer form. First she thought it was shock and then it she thought she was about to lose consciousness but neither of those things could answer to the horrible chill that felt like death gripping her soul in its heartless, frozen hands.

She looked over to see Harry start to let go of the stones he was holding and fall over, his own eyes wide in shock. Professor Lupin started to clutch the side of head and Tonks began to stagger. All around her, aurors began to collapse. She sank to her knees and saw that Dumbledore alone was still standing but even his wand seemed frozen over the stones. The whole scene before Ginny suddenly looked as if it was coming at her from inside a glass ball. And suddenly nothing seemed real except for the frigid voices that suddenly rose in her head.

"Did Harry tell you he loved you, Ginny?"

"Do you how sick with worry your mother and I were? Just tell us why you kept that diary from us in the first place, Ginny!"

"And now we wait, Ginny. I know Harry will come down here for you. I'm so grateful you were able to tell me all about him, Ginny, aren't you? And now that I'm whole again, I can show you just how grateful I am."

The world swam one last time before Ginny's eyes and then everything fell into darkness.


	24. Dumbledore Explains

Chapter 24

Dumbledore Explains

When Harry awoke, it seemed to be from such a long sleep that it took him more than a moment to realize he was once again conscious. What conscious reality meant he was equally unsure as if grasping the phenomenon of existence for the very first time.

It was while Harry was still wrestling with this idea in his mind that he became aware that a pair of very large round eyes and a long protruding green nose were hovering inches away from his face. He was on the point of wondering whether he was energetic enough to feel alarmed about this when a voice Harry recognized but could not for the moment place said:

"She's doing it again, Albus."

"Winky," said a voice that sounded very much like Dumbledore's.

"Winky!" said a voice that was unmistakably Dobby's. "Winky must get back to bed!"

"But Winky must tell Dobby – " whined a pitifully weak voice.

"Winky is ill!" came the rejoinder. "Winky is very weak!"

And then in a softer voice:

"Winky saved Harry Potter's life."

"But Winky must tell Dobby," cracked the weathered voice, somewhat more emboldened this time.

"Winky must rest! Winky is not to be getting out of bed again!"

"But Harry Potter – "

"Winky cannot help Harry Potter now."

"But Winky must tell Dobby: Harry Potter is awake."

There was a sudden silence.

And then everything came back to Harry in a rush of memories like the sudden flow of blood from a deep wound. Something fell and crashed to the floor in pieces as Harry flailed blindly about for his glasses. He felt a slightly shaking but determined hand take hold of his and push a pair of glasses into it. Harry fought so hard to open them that he nearly snapped the ends off in his hand. When he finally put them on his head, he found himself looking into weathered but relieved-looking face of Remus Lupin.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed. "But what – where – Ron!" he cried out suddenly. "Ron! Hermione!"

There was no response.

"Where are they?" Harry demanded, as if their disappearance was the collective fault of the still undefined occupants of the room in which he had found himself. "They're not - they can't be. Please don't tell me – "

"Harry."

"Ron!" Harry cried out again, his voice verging on hysteria. "Hermione! Can you – "

"HARRY!"

Harry suddenly stopped talking and noticed, for the first time since waking, the familiar feathery-white beard of Professor Albus Dumbledore standing just behind Professor Lupin, an expression on his reddened face no less severe than that which he had worn when dueling Voldemort.

"You have not given up faith in your friends to this point," said Dumbledore, in a voice that was slightly more soft but no less stern. "See that you don't begin now."

Harry forced himself to remain silent even as he felt his heart thundering in his chest. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have said anything like that unless –

Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly as if he knew he was breaking into Harry's thoughts.

"Hermione and Ron have suffered very serious injuries," he said. "They are presently being treated at St. Mungo's by the best care available to wizard kind. They have not yet regained consciousness but I have been assured by healers whose candor I fully trust that they will and that, in the course of time, they will both make a full recovery."

Dumbledore did not wait for Harry to release the breath he had been holding before carrying on.

"Molly and Arthur here have been taking turns sitting at their bedside and yours. When they heard that their daughter had regained consciousness, they both returned here."

At these words, Harry sat bolt upright and gasped.

"Ginny!" he cried. "Gods, Ginny! Where's Ginny? Where is – "

Harry swung his head back and forth as if gripped by another loose spirit. He stopped only when he felt himself grabbed firmly by something impossibly soft and warm. His heart began to calm at once as he held on tightly in return. The glorious scent of lavender once again filled his senses and turned all of the phantoms that seemed to have been strangling him a moment before into paper tigers. Though he could see nothing but a red blur from the silky strands of hair that now cascaded down his forehead and delightfully tickled his nose, he did not need to ask who it was that was holding him now.

And then he found he could care less how many people were watching him and what it was they thought.

"I love you, Ginny!" he cried, wailing openly onto her shoulder. "I love you so much! I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I – "

"It's OK, Harry," said a very gentle voice in his ear. "I know. I knew already. Don't think about what he said. Don't give in and let yourself be hurt by him. He's gone now, Harry. It's over."

But Harry wasn't finished.

"I was so afraid he would hurt you, that he would kill you!" Harry sobbed. "And that we'd never get a chance together after I'd been such a coward for so long. I wanted to stop him but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough."

"You were strong, Harry," said Ginny, her voice like the sound of a pleasant breeze. "You knew when to save me but you weren't afraid to let me save you. And because of that you and I are still alive now."

Harry kissed Ginny tenderly on the cheek before slowly drawing back from their embrace. Ginny took his glasses away from his face and dried them on his bed sheets. When she put them back on his face, letting her fingers caress the top of his earlobes as she did so, he could see that tears ran down her freckled cheeks as well. As he softly rubbed the tears away with his fingers, he imagined that for one brief moment he was looking back again at the ten-year-old girl who had watched him from behind her large brown eyes on Platform nine-and-three-quarters at King's Cross Station, the little girl who had never before met a monster called Voldemort.

Harry had no sooner let go of Ginny when he felt someone else with red curly hair and a very familiar embrace put her arms around him. When the second mass of red hair let go, he looked back into the face of Mrs. Weasley who was drying her own eyes.

"Oh, Harry, dear," she said. "It's been awful. You went through so much. Both of you did," she added, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulder.

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry weakly. "I'm sorry about Ron. If it wasn't for me – "

But Mrs. Weasley shook her head, fresh tears still misting her eyes.

"Say no more, Harry. As Ginny said, it's over now. Everything's going to be all right."

Harry nodded and looked back at Dumbledore, blowing his nose on a pink-spotted handkerchief Mrs. Weasley had just conjured.

"But, sir, I saw those stones falling on Ron and Hermione. They were enormous. There's no way anyone could have survived that."

Dumbledore nodded.

"It would have seemed so, Harry, and since neither of them has regained consciousness, we cannot be completely sure what happened. But when the aurors and I awoke, we used magic to shift the boulders that had covered them and we discovered that your faith in Hermione seemed well placed. We found her holding her wand as if she had just cast a spell; it seemed to us that she had summoned a number of the large rocks that had fallen down around them to form an enclosure over herself and Ron. Of course, it was not foolproof and some of the rocks broke through. Then, of course, there was the lack of air. As I said, their injuries are serious. I doubt a Muggle could have survived but fortunately a very capable witch and wizard were lying underneath those boulders."

Harry swallowed and shook as head as he tried to imagine the scene. Ron had not been standing next to Hermione. Perhaps she had summoned him as well.

After completing this thought, Harry took in his surroundings fully for the first time. He was lying on a bed in the hospital wing. Nearly every space around him had been taken up with visitors. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood to his left. Next to them stood Bill Weasley, Ginny's eldest brother. Next to him stood Professor McGonagall, then Professor Dumbledore, and finally Professor Lupin.

The scene before Harry's eyes was completed when a familiar tutting and fussing figure pushed into the room, unceremoniously shoved Dumbledore and McGonagall aside, and fixed the room's occupants with a severe expression.

"What in Merlin's name is all this noise?" demanded Madam Pomfrey. "Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," she said officiously. "You're awake. Good. For heaven's sake, drink that ever-boiling hot chocolate I've put next to you. You've both suffered a nasty attack of dark magic. Mr. Potter, I see you've managed to knock yours over. No matter."

Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand in the direction of the floor and the pieces of Harry's broken mug re-assembled themselves and landed back on top of the table.

"I'll go to fetch some more hot chocolate," she went on. "In the meantime, Miss Weasley, you could drink yours more easily if you were in your own bed and not on Mr. Potter's."

Ginny blushed in spite of herself and reluctantly retreated back to the bed adjacent to Harry's.

"There's an awful racket outside, too," Madam Pomfrey went on. "Would somebody please – "

"Oh, Bill, please go and sort it out, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Tell them Ginny and Harry are awake but they're a bit worn out and won't be taking visitors for the time being."

Bill nodded and left the room but not before taking a quick glance over to his sister's bed as if to make sure she was still there and in one piece.

Madam Pomfrey watched him leave, looking satisfied that at least one person was listening to her instructions. She quickly snapped her attention back to her other patients.

"By the time I return with Mr. Potter's ever-boiling hot chocolate, I expect to see everyone quiet and all of my patients back in bed resting, otherwise – "

Madam Pomfrey stopped abruptly as Dumbledore flicked his wand in the direction of Harry's empty mug and a fresh supply of ever-boiling hot chocolate appeared inside. She looked back and forth between the mug and Dumbledore, looking uncertain as to whether to look pleased or indignant.

Dumbledore took advantage of her confusion to make his own remark.

"Poppy, I'm afraid Harry and Ginny deserve an explanation of what has been going on around them for the past several months. After I have said my piece, I promise to make sure they have drunk their chocolate and are resting."

Madam Pomfrey looked about to object but on looking properly at the determined expression on the headmaster's face, she seemed to decide against it and was content to simply walk away muttering resignedly to herself.

Dumbledore smiled in response and turned his head back slowly to the others.

"Wait!" said Harry before he could begin. "If you were really Snape all the time – "

"Professor Snape, Harry," said Dumbledore gently.

"Right, if you were really him – but that can't be right. Y – you murdered Professor Dibble. I was there! I saw it happen!"

He looked over at Ginny and saw that she was nodding, too, and also looking to Dumbledore for answers.

"I must admit it is a bit confusing," said Mr. Weasley politely.

"Too bloody right," muttered McGonagall shooting Dumbledore a dangerous look which Harry noticed he tried to avoid.

"If you'll all allow me to explain," said Dumbledore, sighing slightly.

The room fell quiet.

"There is no Professor Dibble, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Or to be more precise, Professor Dibble as you call her is an old friend of mine. Her name is Althea Wainwright and she lives at Number 3 Squirrel Rise, Marlow Bottom, Buckinghamshire where she tries to keep mostly out of the way of her Muggle neighbors. She kindly allowed me to take one or two bits of her hair to use in our Polyjuice Potion in exchange for one of Severus' excellent anti-aging potions. In fact, she herself has not visited Hogwarts in some while."

"Then who – who's been teaching our Potions lessons this year?" wondered Harry.

"I have."

Harry looked around the room to see who it was that had spoken. McGonagall and Dumbledore parted slightly to reveal the pale waxy face of Snape standing behind them, his arms folded, looking very much as though he would rather be anywhere else in the world at the moment.

"You!" cried Harry incredulously.

Dumbledore coughed lightly.

"Sir," added Harry reluctantly.

Harry looked across at Ginny again and saw an expression of bewilderment that mirrored his own. Dibble could not have been more unlike Snape, in appearance most obviously, but also in manner and personality. He found it nearly impossible to believe that Snape had been able to feign such a friendly disposition to so many students he apparently loathed, not to mention manage the destruction of much of his own Potions laboratory.

"Believe me, Potter," said Snape as if reading Harry's thoughts. "I would never have done so unless it was absolutely necessary."

Harry suddenly found it very difficult to keep from smiling but Ginny seemed less amused.

"What about our O.?" she demanded.

"Following the Dark Lord's demise and the end of our little charade, the examiners were apprised of the situation," replied Snape. "The exams will be marked very leniently, which in your case, Miss Weasley, will be particularly fortunate."

Snape's eyes shifted back and forth throughout the room taking in the frosty stares he was receiving from everyone except Dumbledore who continued to smile benignly at no one in particular.

"But down in the cellar, in that room, you shot Professor Dibble, sir, or Professor Snape or whoever it was. You fired an Avada Kedavra. I saw it."

"Indeed, Harry," said Dumbledore, continuing to smile.

He reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a wand.

"Weasley's Wizard Wands," he announced. "Quite a bargain at three sickles. Fortunately I was able to obtain a prototype free of charge in exchange for allowing the owners into the school to attend the Guy Fawkes ball. It even lights up at the end."

He touched the end of the wand which illuminated.

"You may rest assured, Ginny," Dumbledore went on, ignoring Harry's dropped jaw, "that your skills at casting disarming spells are not so poor after all. I'm sure that had you been holding a real wand against me, I would have been relatively defenseless."

"So," said Harry, still struggling to understand. "Snape – Professor Snape was Professor Dibble and you, sir," he looked at Dumbledore, "were Professor Snape all the time, I mean, since the beginning of the year? But I saw you, that day, in the corridor."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, obviously pleased that Harry had asked the question. "Thereby hangs a tale. But perhaps I should begin at the beginning."

Dumbledore swallowed and took a brief sip of Harry's ever-boiling chocolate, apparently steeling himself for a long explanation.

"After Voldemort's presence was revealed to the wizarding world last spring, I knew that he would begin to act quickly. Yet, for reasons that I would prefer left unrevealed at the moment," Dumbledore looked meaningfully at Harry, "I also knew that it was likely he still felt that many of his grander and more frightening schemes could not be set into motion until he had killed you, Harry, and that he would stop at nothing until he had broken the charms I had set up to protect you. I tried to convince Minister Fudge that guarding you should be the first priority of the Ministry and that in protecting you, we had our best chance to capture or kill Voldemort before the Death Eaters struck in considerably deadlier fashion. Nevertheless, while he agreed to contribute to your guard, he wanted to focus most of his attentions elsewhere. I tried to wait as long as I dared, hoping that he would come around. But following the unreported escape of the Death Eaters from Azkaban and Voldemort's near successful attempt on your life at the beginning of the school year, the nature of which the Death Eaters had managed to keep completely secret despite Fudge's assurance that the aurors were doing their best to penetrate their ranks, I decided to put a different plan in motion."

"Circumventing the Order in the process?" said Lupin, looking as mutinous as Harry had ever seen him.

Dumbledore turned to face him calmly.

"Remus, your help was indispensable as was Minerva, Molly, and Arthur's, as was the help of every member of the Order. You all trusted me even though your trust was blind. It was vital that we tell as few people as possible. The Death Eaters had many means at their disposal for extracting information and as we have become all too well aware these past few days, even Hogwarts was not safe from their grasp. Furthermore, while I did not suspect anyone in particular, I knew that Voldemort had an inside source of information that had alerted the Death Eaters to the hiding place we had established for Harry just outside of the Forbidden Forest. That information had only been shared among members of the Order and I was first inclined to accept the fact we had a traitor in our midst. I also felt it would be unwise to alert that traitor that she or he may have been discovered. I also hoped that we could turn that person back to work for us. It was not until much later that I realized there was something important I had overlooked, but I will come to that in a minute.

"When you and Remus returned to school, Harry, and told us what had taken place, I knew I could not afford to waste any more time. I met secretly with Severus about our plans for the remainder of the year; even there, we were followed, though it seemed we were not overheard. The Order had already been trained in the latest developments in Polyjuice Potions that summer, Harry, as I told you when we were in my office at the beginning of the year (though I did not at the time explain why) and I decided to put these to good use. I fell into the role of headmaster once more, this time in the guise of Professor Snape. Professor Snape himself went to Voldemort and explained that he wanted to enter more actively into his service, that I had left Hogwarts, and that I had foolishly appointed him headmaster. We had suspected that Voldemort had already been planning to strike Hogwarts, but we didn't know how he had been able to attack Privet Drive or why it was he felt so confident in his plans to attack the school. Severus risked his life to provide us a far deeper and more dangerous level of intelligence than any we had had to this point. Telling him only the details he needed to know to complete specific assignments, I also enlisted Remus' help to follow the Death Eaters in disguise and report on any information that Severus failed to uncover or any plots or suspicions that may have been voiced about him by any of the other Death Eaters."

And because he did not completely trust Snape? Harry wondered but he did not give voice to these thoughts.

"After he returned to Voldemort," Dumbledore went on, "Severus discovered that he had come into possession of a Monocellate crystal. He had used it to apparate his Death Eaters over the boundary into Privet Drive and was planning to use it again, along with an elaborate potion he had managed to assemble, to apparate into Hogwarts. Of course, Severus also learned that Voldemort had made contact with Ginny through means of the diary and that he planned to use the crystal as a conduit to break into her thoughts while she was still in the castle. He knew that Harry would be protected even after he attacked the castle and he imagined that Ginny could lead him to his exact location.

"But still Voldemort was hungry for greater insurance and he was unable to resist the notion that the acting headmaster of Hogwarts would be in his employ. He was also still missing one or two key ingredients for his potion and he knew that none of his Death Eaters possessed Severus' skills in potion making. And so he trusted Severus, as much as he may have ever trusted anyone. Of course, when he learned that I had apparently left Hogwarts, he became even more convinced that it was the right time to strike. Severus managed to remove any doubts that Voldemort had to his loyalties when he let the Death Eaters in through the proverbial front door of the school to plant the crystal in the original room where it would later serve as a conduit in Voldemort's link with Ginny and eventual apparation into the school."

"But why did he have to go to all that trouble?" asked McGonagall in a tone that suggested she half-suspected Dumbledore of making the whole story up. "He was in Potter's head the year before! Why didn't he try to reach him directly again? Why did he have to go through Miss Weasley to do it?"

Harry did not fail to notice that while McGonagall looked expectantly at Dumbledore, she seemed far less enthusiastic about making eye contact with either himself or Ginny.

Dumbledore smiled, obviously delighted that someone had raised the question.

"It was quite simple, really. Simple and brilliant. As Tom Riddle's plans always were," he added fondly, almost as if nostalgic for Voldemort's school days. "After Arthur was attacked last year, of course, Voldemort knew that Harry could read into his thoughts. He first used this to his advantage to trick Harry into believing that he held Sirius captive in the Department of Mysteries."

Ginny looked over at Harry anxiously but he continued to stare up at Dumbledore implacably.

"After that, Voldemort knew we would be on the alert monitoring Harry for signs both of his activities and of any further attempts to lure us into a ruse. He also believed that we would continue to give Harry Occlumency lessons and Severus informed him, falsely, that I had been meeting with Harry this year to do just that having decided that Severus was unreliable. He therefore believed that it would not be wise to possess Harry again but to have us believe that that was precisely what he had intended. He believed that while everyone's attentions were focused on Harry, no one would notice what was happening to Ginny until it was too late. And indeed, were it not for Severus, perhaps his plan would have worked. There was another thing, too: as powerful as link between Voldemort and Harry was, it was different in nature than the link he shared with Ginny. Voldemort could plant things into Harry's mind but he could not extract information from Harry directly. Most importantly, he could not know where Harry was. I realized this when he was not able to capture Harry the previous year during his trips away from Hogwarts. It was his hope that he could gain this information this year by means of his link with Ginny."

"So that's why you didn't continue my Occlumency lessons!" said Harry, suddenly remembering Hermione's surprise that his lessons had been discontinued at the beginning of the year.

"Exactly, Harry," said Dumbledore. "We wanted you to practice Occlumency last year because we needed to keep Voldemort out of your mind. This year, however, we needed you to be as conscious as possible of what Voldemort might have been doing to Ginny. This receptiveness proved very valuable later on, of course, when you aroused Ginny from her nightmare and reported it to Professor McGonagall."

"That was a very dangerous decision to make, Albus," said Lupin severely. "Suppose Voldemort had changed his plans and suppose your information had been wrong!"

"It wasn't," said Snape icily.

Lupin and Snape shared a look that left anyone in the room who had been in doubt that there was still no love loss between them. It was Mrs. Weasley, however, who could restrain herself no longer.

"And so you put Ginny and Harry in much greater danger much sooner!" she snapped, her arms folded and her face flushed in anger. "All so that you could entrap Voldemort!"

"Molly," said Dumbledore firmly, not backing away from her admonishing glare. "If I thought I could keep Harry and Ginny safe their whole lives I would risk my own to do it. But Voldemort had already forced my hand. Sooner or later, he would have found out how to get into Hogwarts by himself to kill Harry and no doubt Ginny as well. This was the only way we could keep things on our terms and not his."

Mrs. Weasley still did not very pleased and neither did Lupin.

The tension was broken slightly, however, when Harry spoke up again.

"But I don't understand," he said. "How was I able to see inside of Ginny's dream? And why did the dream keep fading in and out like it did? One minute I felt I was walking by the lake and the next I was in back in the bathroom again."

In response to several puzzled expressions, Harry related his vision in detail, once more leaving out who he had been walking around the lake with, though he did decide that he would tell Ginny about this later.

Dumbledore smiled again once Harry had finished.

"I must congratulate you, Harry; you fought well. It was for that reason that you were able to overcome Voldemort's illusion and learn that he had entered Ginny's mind once again."

Harry frowned momentarily, then uncreased his face in sudden revelation.

"Voldemort was – he was trying to keep me out?" he said. "The walk by the lake – "

" – was a dream," finished Dumbledore. "Or a vision planted by Voldemort. Or perhaps a mixture of both; I can't be completely sure. Voldemort knew you could see into his mind, of course, and he didn't want you to alert anyone as to what he was doing to Ginny. He tried to keep you out but as I think you discovered from the visions of your previous year, you were most likely to see into Voldemort's head when he was especially angry, happy, or there was something he especially wanted, like the prophecy; in other words, when he was in a heightened emotional state. His excitement and anticipation about gaining influence over Ginny once again combined with his close proximity to you at that moment leaked its way into your mind against his will. He tried to block you but both the strength of his emotions and your ability to question the illusion he was feeding you made it possible for you to overcome him and eventually wake up and alert Ginny."

"But, Albus," said Mr. Weasley. "I still don't understand: was there a spy in the Order? And if so, who was it, or should I say is it?" Mr. Weasley seemed a little confused.

Dumbledore smiled again.

"A very good question, Arthur. But perhaps I should continue from where I left off before. It's been a long time since I used a Time Turner and jumping around like this in the story makes my head spin somewhat."

Dumbledore's statement was followed with an expectant silence.

"Once Severus had obtained the information he needed concerning Voldemort's plans," continued Dumbledore, "he returned to Hogwarts again and assumed the role of Professor Dibble. During these periods, I would become him again. But from time to time we would also be ourselves. For one thing, I needed to get out of the castle to collect the ingredients necessary for our counter-potion; it would have been far too dangerous for Severus to do so. It was also important that Severus appear as himself to Voldemort most of the time. They had," Dumbledore paused a little awkwardly, "experienced much together before and if I took his place for too long, Voldemort would have obviously seen through my disguise. And in general, keeping our appearances changing helped to satisfy the suspicions of anyone who may have been watching us or our behavior too closely. In fact, I only appeared in Voldemort's presence twice: once to present him with the new wand he was anxious to receive since discovering that his previous one was of a pair with yours, Harry, and then, of course, most recently when I apparated into the school along with him and the other Death Eaters. I also appeared to him once through the floo network to update him on the reaction to his second attempt to enter into Ginny's dreams.

"Even then I think Voldemort may have suspected something was amiss. I was extremely eager that our plans be successful when I gave him his new wand and I'm afraid that eagerness may have shown too clearly on my face. It was perhaps quite fortunate that we were wearing masks during the final apparation into Hogwarts for I'm sure that otherwise I would have given myself away."

Harry thought back to Snape's strange behavior as he would pass him in the corridors, one day almost seeming to smile his acknowledgement to Harry and the next shooting him a loathsome stare. At the time, he had assumed Snape to be in two minds about him. He now realized that on the days when he had passed the smiling Snape, he had in fact been exchanging greetings with Dumbledore.

"Professor Snape was quite flawless in his role as Professor Dibble," Dumbledore went on, "I myself stumbled quite a few times as Professor Snape, however, and not only before Voldemort. I appeared to you in the corridor that day, Harry, because I was afraid your suspicions might have been aroused as to Professor Snape's true identity and, knowing your proclivity for mystery solving, I was afraid you and your friends Ron and Hermione might have exposed our plans prematurely.

"You see," said Dumbledore. "Once Severus and I had made our arrangements in secret following his first meeting with Voldemort and I had returned to Hogwarts to take on the role of headmaster in his guise, I happened to pass in the direction of the Quidditch pitch where I noticed that Mr. Malfoy was amusing himself by making sport of you on his broomstick. Naturally, I was furious. I took away his prefect badge and deducted a large number of points from his house."

Dumbledore avoided looking at Snape quite studiously as he continued.

"When I spoke to Severus later that evening, however, I discovered that this behavior may have perhaps have been slightly, shall we say, out of character. I tried to redress things by scheduling an appointment with you the following morning, Harry, to put things to you as I hoped Severus might have himself but I sensed you did not find this particularly convincing, either, and to make matters worse you arrived a few minutes early and witnessed me just finishing a dose of Polyjuice Potion. I conjured a pot of tea as you were knocking on the door but I was still afraid you might have noticed something was amiss."

Harry thought back to what now seemed ages ago when Snape (but now apparently Dumbledore) had asked him to visit his office and made the uncharacteristically polite offer of tea which he himself had appeared to be drinking.

"So in order to put things right," Dumbledore continued, "I appeared to you in my own form later that afternoon. Fortunately, the Aparecium Restorem charm enabled me to change back very quickly. It appears I was fortunate enough to have escaped with the mistake. My acting skills also managed to improve as the year went on."

Harry looked over at Ginny again. He knew as she did that by the time they had reached the alcove outside the original room, Dumbledore's performance as Snape had been chillingly convincing.

"But why?" asked Mr. Weasley. "Surely Severus could have remained on as Potions master and he and you could have apparated out through Hogsmeade on your various jaunts and still been back in a jiffy when needed?"

Dumbledore did not respond right away.

Snape cleared his throat and said:

"Modesty prevents the headmaster from saying so but while my skills at occlumency allowed me to remain a spy before the Dark Lord and his servants for long periods of time, they are greatly inferior to those of Professor Dumbledore. The Dark Lord may have noticed a strange look in the headmaster's eyes but in his heightened state of caution when receiving the wand he would no doubt have been able to see far enough into my own thoughts to expose my betrayal of him. Moreover, it had to be Professor Dumbledore who apparated with the Death Eaters into the school at the end. I would not have survived long in a duel with the Dark Lord."

Harry wondered whether Dumbledore trusted Snape enough to kill Voldemort if he'd had the chance but, once again, he kept these thoughts to himself.

"Those weren't the only reasons," added Dumbledore. "As I mentioned before, we also knew that someone had told Voldemort Harry's location in the forest. As I said, we first assumed that the spy was someone from the Order as I had only told this information to Order members. But Severus had only been in Voldemort's company a short time when we discovered that Voldemort had received the information about Harry's hiding place through Lucius who in turn had received it from Draco. But we still did not know from whom Draco was getting his own information or how. We also did not know who else might be watching us. Severus tried to get Draco to tell him who the contact was, but it soon became clear that he and Lucius were keeping this information to themselves for as long as possible as their own insurance against Voldemort. It was vital that Severus and I coordinate on a regular basis but frequent meetings between us in our true forms would have aroused suspicion of Severus' true loyalties. Meetings between Professor Dibble and Professor Snape, however, appeared unremarkable, especially as Severus had convinced everyone that Professor Dibble needed a considerable helping hand in teaching Potions."

"But so then who was the contact after all and how did he get his information?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"She, Molly," said Dumbledore. "I, like many before me, was unable to see past the usual sort of prejudices held by wizard-kind. I had only told Harry's hiding place to members of the Order, yes, but I had, on occasion, passed on this sort of information in my office in the presence of a number of house elves who I had assumed without thinking, and despite obvious appearances to the contrary, to be themselves without ears or the will to use them. The spy, you see, was Winky. She had heard enough to tell Draco, and Draco had told the Death Eaters. But although it now seems rather obvious, I confess that it was not in fact until Dobby and Winky returned with us to the hospital wing that I discovered this."

"Malfoy will be expelled now, won't he?" said Harry, trying unsuccessfully to disguise the eagerness in his voice.

Dumbledore turned to look at him, pausing for a moment.

"No, Harry," he said quietly.

"What?" retorted Harry, dropping all pretense of deference. "You just told us he was feeding information to the Death Eaters! He nearly got us all killed! He's a Death Eater himself!"

"He's Lucius Malfoy's son!" added Mrs. Weasley in equal defiance. "You can't just allow him to remain in the school!"

Dumbledore paused for a moment longer, his eyes wandering back and forth between Harry and Mrs. Weasley, not to mention Ginny who, though she had remained silent, had fixed Dumbledore with one of her now predictably difficult stares.

"Molly, Harry, as difficult as this may seem to understand, Mr. Malfoy is still a child. He could not have reasonably been expected to betray his father and join our side whatever Severus' best efforts over the years. He deserves the chance to make his own choices."

"He's made his choice already!" retorted Harry angrily. "You can't tell me he didn't enjoy being a Death Eater! You don't know him like I do!"

"Perhaps not, Harry," Dumbledore replied quite calmly. "But I venture to suggest that you do not know him as well as you think. What would you have me do? Voldemort is not the only dark wizard to have plagued our kind and I doubt he will be the last. If we continue to stand divided, insisting on perpetuating old rivalries and prejudices and punishing those unfortunate enough to have been caught on the losing side of the battlefield, we stand little hope of persevering against future terrors. If I expel Draco now and leave him on the outside, he will have no choice but to continue to work against us, which may prove very costly in the future. If we embrace him into our circle now, however, and give him the skills and credentials to succeed in our world, we will have given him an incentive to change his ways."

With the exception of Snape who continued to stare ahead stoically, no one in the room appeared very convinced by this explanation. Still, it was clear that Dumbledore had made his decision and that as far as he was concerned, the matter was closed. No one objected when he decided to continue with his account.

"Voldemort decided to give his potion various tests. He first wanted to see whether he could succeed in breaking through into Ginny's dreams. He enlisted Severus' help in preparing the potion and Severus and I also prepared ours following Severus' instructions. Voldemort concocted a similar potion to the one he had developed to enchant the diary in the first place. Through it, he managed to link to the crystal which Lucius Malfoy had smuggled into the original room, using the occasion of the Guy Fawkes ball when he knew few would be wandering the corridors. The crystal can channel thought and Voldemort used it as a kind of receiver to connect himself and the diary to Ginny's mind. Severus doctored both of the potions, however, in such a way as to make Voldemort himself believe that he could gain access to the castle whenever he desired by preparing the potion when in fact only his potion combined with our own facilitated a temporary link. Of course, we knew that the Death Eaters were bound to discover that we were brewing a potion so close to Voldemort's so Severus informed Voldemort that we had received intelligence that he was trying to enter the school by means of a potion and that we were trying to brew a counter-potion to stop him, but that Severus had sabotaged ours. When Voldemort succeeded in breaking into Ginny's thoughts, he did not doubt that what Severus had told him was true."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just brew the one potion and have Professor Snape supervise it?" asked Ginny.

"We needed to make sure that Voldemort did not try to enter again into your thoughts without us knowing, Ginny. As I said before, it was important to make sure that he advanced his plans to invade Hogwarts on our terms and not his. And it was fortunate that we did so because later on, we discovered from Remus' efforts at following Death Eaters that Voldemort had attempted to gain access without informing Severus. Since his link depended on our potion, however, he was not able to do so the second time. Fortunately for us, Voldemort attributed this to a failing on the part of one of his Death Eaters rather than a flaw in the recipe for the potion itself. Posing as Severus on this occasion, I persuaded Voldemort to try the potion again with my help. Voldemort made use of the Easter holidays to use Lucius to replace the crystal once more and planned his attack for the week following, during the first set of O.. Severus and I were able to prepare our helping potion once again. Again, of course, Voldemort knew that we were preparing the potion but was under the impression that it was a counter-potion that would fail. The first time we assembled the potion, I stirred it while Severus returned to teach class as Professor Dibble that afternoon and then supervise the Guy Fawkes ball and the entry of the Death Eater into the castle that evening in his own form. On this second occasion, however, Severus normally would have taught Potions to the fifth years but that class was cancelled because of the O.W.L. schedule. We decided that he would retreat to the forest to stir the potion while I remained in the castle as the acting headmaster. Earlier in the week, however, Voldemort's plans had suffered a setback when Ginny and her friends had decided to retreat to the kitchens for a late night snack."

Mr. Weasley looked at his daughter with an appreciative interest while Mrs. Weasley glared. Ginny chose to avoid both of them and continued to listen to Dumbledore.

"The Weasley curiosity being what it is," said Dumbledore, clearly amused with himself, "Ginny happened upon the original room and found the crystal. But then Winky told Draco Malfoy who told his father and the crystal and all evidence of Death Eater activity in the room was quickly removed. Lucius later put a sealing charm on the door and then went back in to replace the items to ensure there were no further delays to Voldemort's arrangements. Voldemort wanted to send Snape to supervise the arrangements but as, unbeknownst to him, he was busy in the forest preparing the ingredients for our helping potion, I went in his guise instead. Once again, I fear I was less than convincing in my role for both Draco and Lucius who, after all, had worked closely with Severus for many years, seemed to suspect I was not quite myself. Fortunately, they both lacked the imagination to ferret out the whole truth. I returned to the forest with some herbs from Professor Sprout's greenhouse that we needed to complete the potion and then, after conferring with Severus, returned to the school to wait for events to unfold in Severus' office.

"I waited all night to see whether our plan was successful. I finally learned that it was when Minerva informed me that Harry and Ginny had been to see her. Believing me to be Severus, she impressed upon me the importance of informing myself."

Dumbledore seemed to be repressing a smirk with some difficulty. McGonagall, to her credit, had resisted attacking him, but her complexion remained somewhat blotchy and she began to tap the heel of her boot rhythmically on the floor.

"The only person I told was Voldemort himself by use of floo powder. Naturally, I did not reveal Minerva's involvement. I told him that Ginny and Harry and been to see me themselves and that I had told them not to pass the information on to anyone. I then prepared to put into action the final and most dangerous part of our plan."

Dumbledore paused and sighed softly.

"With Severus' help, Voldemort prepared the final potion that would allow him to break through the wards surrounding the school and apparate into the original room along with the other Death Eaters. By this time, it was not difficult for Severus to convince Voldemort that he needed to go into the castle along with the other Death Eaters. Naturally, Voldemort chose the final Hogsmeade weekend for his attack so that Severus would not be missed as headmaster. However, Voldemort was not aware that it was not Severus who would accompany him but myself. After sending an owl to Harry to make sure that he remained in the school, Severus returned in the form of Professor Dibble and remained in the castle during the Hogsmeade outing while most of the other teachers and students left. Before the moment of apparation, I cast an additional spell on the potion which created a safe zone around the Astronomy Tower where the castle's natural defenses would still be held in place. There, under the direction of Professor Nevins, we were able to conceal the younger students when it was time for the Death Eaters to attack. Professor Nevins, with the help of Kingsley and Tonks, had been working all year to bring along a number of the aurors to our side. They joined us in the castle for the final battle, hiding along with the others in the Astronomy Tower. The only difficulty was that the tower was quite a distance away from the original room. To have brought the safe zone any closer would have aroused Voldemort's suspicion. Conversely, we couldn't have hidden the aurors anywhere outside the safe zone because Voldemort would have sensed them as soon as he arrived. We decided that our only chance of success was to wait until Voldemort had let down his guard and allowed his attention to be fully absorbed by what was going on in the original room. And we knew that that would only occur when he already had Harry in his possession.

"Voldemort apparated into the castle along with myself and the Death Eaters as planned. Now that he was much closer to Ginny and the crystal, he could detect her waking thoughts without her realizing it. This in itself was a risk but I was confident that Ginny was strong enough to resist Voldemort possessing her entirely. Severus waited near the front entrance to the school for my signal. This turned out to be some time in coming when Voldemort's plans were put into disarray upon Harry's decision to leave the school and travel to Hogsmeade and Ginny and Harry's subsequent separation. I was considering how to adjust my plans to capture Voldemort even with Harry's absence when Harry reunited with Ginny and returned to her conscious thoughts, and Voldemort was able to learn his exact whereabouts in the castle.

"Voldemort sent myself, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Macnair to apprehend Harry and Ginny. I took advantage of Severus' position in the Death Eater hierarchy to put myself in charge. I ordered Malfoy, Lestrange, and Macnair to remain in waiting while I went to the front of the school and made contact quickly with Severus to tell him that Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were presently in the first-floor girls' bathroom. He then prepared to intercept them as they followed the light to the main entranceway."

"They were where?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Never mind, Mum," said Ginny.

"After I had done this, I went to the main entrance of the school."

Dumbledore suddenly paused. A horrible suspicion began to dawn on Harry. He suddenly found it difficult to look Dumbledore in the eye.

"And then." Dumbledore swallowed. "On Voldemort's instructions, I took out my wand, and in a single curse, blew out the front entrance to the school and cast the Dark Mark in the sky."

There was a long uncomfortable silence.

"You needn't look at me like that, Molly," said Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley quickly tore her head away from Dumbledore's eyes.

"You see," said Dumbledore, as if trying to convince himself as much as everyone else. "By casting that Dark Mark, I was able to provide Voldemort and his Death Eaters with a very false sense of security. Symbols are always what we make of them. The Dark Mark came to mean death and despair, yes, but perhaps now it will come to mean something quite different."

Dumbledore paused once more before continuing again.

"Once I had cast the Dark Mark, I apparated back into the darkened corridor where I knew that Severus would lead the students. I took them down the staircase to the alcove outside the entrance to the original room. It was there that Malfoy, Lestrange, and Macnair were waiting as instructed. Severus and I had planned that he would try to escape and then I would shoot him with Fred and George's wand, apparently killing him in the attempt."

"And what if one of the other Death Eaters had fired the curse?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"I think you will find I have a quicker shot," replied Dumbledore without blinking.

"But couldn't you have apparated to the tower yourself?" asked Ginny. "That would have been faster and much less dangerous."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"Do not underestimate Voldemort's skills at legilimency, Ginny. One does not need to be standing right in front of him before he can sense thoughts and energies. There was no possibility that my apparation would have escaped Voldemort's attention even if he had been preoccupied with Harry. Don't forget how he was able to find each of his scattered Death Eaters with each disapparation from the room and bring them back with him to fight. Only Severus' singular non-magical journey to the tower stood a chance of remaining unnoticed."

"Why did you have to make sure Ginny stayed with us?" asked Harry, a little suspiciously. "Surely it would have been best if she'd escaped?"

"With Voldemort following her every thought, Harry, she wouldn't have stood much chance. And as by now you know, once Voldemort believed you were in my hands, Ginny was no longer an asset to him but only a threat. He could have sent any one of his available Death Eaters to track her down and kill her. Of course, he would have ordered any of his Death Eaters to kill her had I allowed them to take her into the original room. The only way I could make sure Ginny would be safe was to keep her with me.

"Curiously, what I told Lucius Malfoy was the truth: Voldemort ordered me to kill Ginny once the other Death Eaters had taken Harry, Ron, and Hermione into the original room and they would no longer be able to resist. But with his decision to defy me, bound up very much in his jealousy for the privileged position among the Death Eaters he believed that Severus had taken from him, it became much less risky for me to feign killing Severus. I held the only source of light in the room, of course, and I took great care to keep it trained away from Severus. I continued to keep the light pointed to me after the Death Eaters had left and Ginny and I remained alone in the room. Unseen by Ginny in the darkness, Severus quietly got to his feet and made his way up to the Astronomy Tower to alert the Aurors that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been taken into the original room and the time had come for them to strike.

"And then came the most dangerous stage of our plan. I needed to give Severus enough time to mount the stairs to alert the aurors and for them to return down to the original room. Voldemort had already told me that he planned to start with Harry's psychological torture first. He would tell Harry that how he had trapped him and his friends by using Ginny to track him and how he planned to torture Ron and Hermione and have Ginny killed. I counted on using that time to allow Severus some margin of error to reach the Astronomy Tower, realizing also that he might run into some interference on the way. I did not know what you were doing or saying in the room, but like Lord Voldemort, I am sufficiently able to sense the emotions of those nearby so that I could tell when he had moved beyond purely psychological torture. At that point, I intended to apparate into the room and hoped to hold him and the Death Eaters at bay until Severus was able to alert the aurors."

Lupin looked fit to burst.

"Were you planning to take them on all by yourself or did you expect a group of students to help you hold off an army of fully-trained Death Eaters?"

"I did not say it was the best plan, Remus. Severus here will tell you that I was never very keen on the idea when it was first presented to me. In the end, however, it was the only plan we had. Of course, I did not count on Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny mounting their own resistance. In hindsight, I should have done. Before I knew what was happening, the sounds of wand fire were coming from the original room much earlier than I had expected. And then in the respectable tradition of bravery that has characterized all the many members of the Weasley family at one time or another, Ginny delivered a rather well-placed hit with her knee."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley frowned in confusion. Harry's mouth opened as he suddenly guessed at the truth. But no one seemed to notice Ginny grin.

"And then," said Dumbledore, now smiling. "Ron and Hermione followed things up with a spectacular hex that struck just above my head, sending a large number of stones to my feet and head. When I regained consciousness, Ginny had things well under control and I was only left with a bit of tidying up to do."

Harry wondered whether Ginny had told her parents exactly what Dumbledore's tidying up had involved before he had woken. Strangely, Harry found himself deciding that he wasn't going to be the one to pass along any of the feats he had seen Dumbledore perform. For one thing, he was not sure how he could begin to describe them.

"Why couldn't you have told me you were really you?" Ginny demanded. "After the others had gone into the original room, surely you could have let me in on your secret? And then I wouldn't have tried to escape."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"For all I knew, that could have finished everything for all of us. As I told you, I didn't know exactly what was going on in that room. I did not know whether or not Voldemort had dropped his link with you. If I had told you who I really was and he was still monitoring your thoughts, he would have realized that I had betrayed him and killed Harry and his friends without waiting. I had to make you think that I was Professor Snape and that he was on Voldemort's side until the last second."

"There's another thing I don't understand," said Harry. "When you fought with Voldemort, why didn't your two wands join if they were of a pair?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"There's actually quite a simple answer to that, Harry," he said. "When I came into the room I brought three wands with me. One was Fred and George's wand, the other was the wand I had purchased with Voldemort's, and the third was my own. I had first planned to duel Voldemort with the wand that belonged to him. I felt confident than I could use one wand to forge a link with him which he did not expect and then the other to finish him off. While I regained consciousness after falling to the ground, however, I discovered that the linked wand was missing. As always with these things, it was lying nearby in the debris. Unfortunately, when Voldemort levitated the stones that had entrapped me, I knew I had to react instantly to avoid Harry's hex, so I pulled out my own wand. Once my battle with Voldemort began, of course, there was no way that I could return to look for the other wand. Only when Voldemort had transformed me into a cat did I scour the debris and retrieve the wand. Since I could not apparate back into my human form, I had little choice but to place the retrieved wand in front of Harry. I was confident that he would know what to do with it. My own wand was destroyed when Voldemort completed his transfiguration hex, but I was able to use Ginny's."

There was a moment of silence as Dumbledore finished talking. No one in the room looked particularly pleased with the headmaster, save for Snape, whose expression continued to be unreadable, yet there seemed little more anyone could say for the time being.

"If you don't mind, headmaster," said Snape, breaking the silence. "I'm rather anxious to return to see how the repairs to my room are coming along. I'm sure my space in the room can be better occupied by a member of Potter and Weasley's growing fan club. Before I go, however."

Before anyone had realized what was happening, Snape had swiftly crossed the space between himself and Harry and was standing at his bedside in an instant.

Lupin started.

"You needn't be concerned, Lupin, I am not going to hex him."

Harry looked up into the greasy hair and pale face of his once and future Potions master with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

"I'd like to get one thing clear, Potter," drawled Snape in a shifty voice only Harry could hear. "Owing the unusual circumstances of our little deception this year, things were allowed to become extremely lenient, especially during my Potions lessons. Lest you labor under the misapprehension that some things have changed for good, I would like to assure you that I will be back next year in my customary form and that if you wish to have any chance of completing your N.E.W.T. in Potions, I suggest you be very careful needed."

Harry pursed his lips in defiance.

Snape drew himself up, shot an expression of distaste at the three Weasleys which was returned in kind, exchanged a look of deep hatred with Lupin, and then nodded to Dumbledore. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, turned, and swiftly left the room.

Dumbledore smiled brightly.

"Well, if there are no further questions – "

"I don't have a question but I do have something I'd rather like to say!"

Dumbledore smiled engagingly at Mrs. Weasley whose arms remained folded and her cheeks flushed in defiance.

"I can't say I approve much of what you did, Albus, and it seems to me that you owe more to luck than anything else that Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are all still alive. But I'm willing to let bygones be bygones for Harry's sake if you'll promise me one thing."

Dumbledore continued to look highly delighted.

"For you, Molly, anything."

McGonagall started to cough loudly.

"That boy" – she pointed to Harry – "is not going back to live with his cursed relatives again. You-Know-Who is gone now. There's no need. He's coming back to the Burrow to live with us."

"I couldn't agree more," replied Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

Harry was sure he had missed a breath. His ears seemed to be ringing. What had Dumbledore just agreed to? It was hard for Harry to believe that just a few days before he had been wondering how he could stand to remain in the castle the whole summer by himself, unable to go anywhere else in the wizarding world for fear that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would track him down and kill him. Now he had just been told that he was going to spend the whole summer at the Burrow. It seemed too good to be true.

"Y – you mean I – I can go and stay with the Weasleys – all summer?" he asked Dumbledore like a child that has just been told he has been given the Christmas present he always wanted. "I don't have to go back to the Dursleys – not ever again?"

"Not unless you want to, Harry," replied Dumbledore, still smiling.

"I don't!"

Harry looked over at Professor Lupin who was smiling, it seemed, for the first time since he had woken up. He was still looking at his former teacher and mentor when he felt a hand take hold of his again. He looked back over at Ginny and he could see through her eyes that she was thinking exactly the same thing as he. Voldemort hadn't destroyed their dream and it wasn't too late: they were going to get the chance to be together after all.

Harry managed to tear his head away to look up at Mrs. Weasley who was staring down at both of them, looking very pleased.

"B – but can I really stay?" he asked unnecessarily. "Is it really all right?".

Mrs. Weasley tutted.

"Oh, Harry, dear, if it wasn't all right would I have asked? There will always be a place for you at the Burrow."

And then her smile faded only very slightly as she added:

"In Ron's room."

There was a short pause before Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"If there really are no further questions this time, or assertions, I did promise Madam Pomfrey I would let these two get some rest."

Harry did not need to be told twice. His relief that his friends were safe and his excitement at the prospect of going to the Burrow over the summer had left him emotionally drained. He reached to the side for his ever-boiling chocolate. As he did so, however, what he saw out of the corner of his eye made him nearly drop his mug for a second time.

There on a small cot beside him, her golf ball-sized eyes still staring up at him vacantly, lay Winky. Apart from the long green nose that had stared at him when he'd first awoken, Winky was covered from head to toe in white bandages. A long white cast straddled her back like a turtle's shell. Once in bed, her two legs seemed to have been charmed to hover up in the air as though in slings. Dobby sat at the edge of the bed beside her, looking back between her and Harry as if to make sure they were both still safe.

"Winky!" said Harry in alarm. "I – I'm sorry – I – "

Harry shot a brief glance back at Dumbledore and found that he was watching the exchange thoughtfully. He had the sudden impression Dumbledore had not alerted his attention to Winky because he had thought that Harry should recognize her first.

"Are – are you okay?" asked Harry, feeling like an idiot as soon as he had finished the question. "I – I mean – goddess – I – I didn't."

"Harry Potter should not worry about Winky," Winky croaked feebly, continuing to stare at him very closely as Dobby put up a hand to stop her from straining herself. "Winky only hopes Harry Potter is safe now and won't be in any more trouble because of her."

"Trouble?" echoed Harry, a little dumbly. "Winky, you saved my life! If it hadn't been for you, Voldemort would have killed me for sure!"

Winky nodded with some effort.

"It is true, sir, yes. Winky hid on the ceiling and Winky was very lucky her part did not collapse, sir. No one noticed Winky. Winky was too frightened to help Harry Potter until the very end, sir, when Winky could see there was no other way. But Harry Potter must not be too grateful to Winky. Winky has not forgotten how she tried to kill Harry Potter."

"No, Winky! You were tricked and used. And, besides," Harry decided, shooting a sudden glance back to Dumbledore again. "The important thing wasn't what Malfoy made you do. It was how you reacted when you knew the truth, when you had the chance to right what you'd done. You had the courage to confess and then you risked your life to save mine. No one could ask for more of you than that."

Winky looked at Harry for a moment then, in an even more pitiful voice, said:

"Winky is most moved by Harry Potter's kindness. Harry Potter said the same thing to Winky as Professor Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore even thinks Winky should take pay now."

Harry imagined what Hermione would say were she there now. He just tried to nod encouragingly.

"Winky will… consider it, sir," said Winky, looking up almost fearfully at Dumbledore.

Harry's head snapped back to look at the headmaster.

"Will she – " he started to ask, his eyes filled with uncertainty once more.

Dumbledore paused for an agonizing moment.

"Winky was very close to death when the healers found her. It is a shameful truth that although we put house elves to work for us every day we know very little about their physiology. Fortunately, Hermione had succeeded in forming an exchange with an elfin village as part of her work for S.P.E.W. and Mr. Creevey and Miss Wycliffe were able to put me in contact with a number of elfin healers. They nursed her back to consciousness and left Madam Pomfrey with instructions on how to heal her remaining injuries."

"Harry Potter should not worry about Winky," Winky added again. "Winky will be healed and go back to work soon. Winky is drinking a whole bottle of Skele-Gro, sir, and one bottle is a lot for a house-elf."

"But Winky must still rest," chided Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore should not worry, sir. Winky is promised him she will take three days away from her work."

"Three days!" spluttered Harry.

Winky's eyes widened.

"Winky will try to take two, sir?" she suggested.

But Dobby had already read Harry's thoughts.

"Harry Potter is brave and good. He is concerned for Winky. He wants Winky to rest for a longer time."

Winky looked a little anxious at this as Dobby turned his attention back to Harry.

"Harry Potter, do not worry," he said reassuringly. "Dobby is making sure Winky is fully recovered before she returns to any work."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Dobby."

He started to reach for his ever-boiling chocolate and had taken a large sip when Dobby added:

"Winky will even rest for four days, if Harry Potter wishes it."


	25. Loose Ends

Chapter 25

Loose Ends

Two days later, with Madam Pomfrey's characteristic reluctance, Harry and Ginny were finally released from the hospital wing. In between long rests and healthy doses of ever-boiling chocolate, Harry and Ginny had spent most of the remainder of their time in the infirmary trying to persuade Winky to rest a little longer, which she had finally agreed to do. Dobby himself had to leave her side, however, as the house elves became more and more absorbed in the repairs to the school following the siege. Filch, as always, seemed to be supervising more than helping himself, which as Hermione no doubt would have pointed out, was because he was much less capable than they were of doing magic. Hagrid was a much more active helper, however, and on his own frequent visits to the hospital wing to check on Harry and Ginny could often be seen hiding his umbrella behind his back suspiciously.

On the day after Ginny and Harry had first woken up, the news came that first Ron and then Hermione had regained consciousness. Ginny's parents were now spending nearly all of their time at St. Mungo's and could report that their health was steadily improving but there was still no news on when either of them would be released. Both Ginny and Harry had agreed that they would not leave Hogwarts until Ron and Hermione were able to return safely to collect their own belongings and go with them together, no matter how long that might take.

From what little Ginny had been able to ascertain from her father's occasional visits and the snippets of news they had received from The Daily Prophet, the Ministry was largely in disarray over the whole affair, having been taken once again by surprise. It seemed certain that heads would roll but exactly whose and why, it was still not clear. The Daily Prophet, which had changed its own tune very fast since its speculation the previous Christmas that Voldemort had not returned at all, seemed equally unclear about the details of the attack and the only pictures that had been printed in the paper were those of Death Eaters being led into confinement while awaiting trial (all of whom had charmed their faces to appear as indistinct blurs in the pictures); a very fuzzy picture of what seemed to have been the Dark Mark hanging over Hogwarts taken through a pair of Omnioculars from a great distance away; and an also quite unclear picture of a Death Eater who kept apparating and disapparating out of a picture taken out of the Astronomy Tower window by the camera of Colin Creevey. Taking full advantage of Hermione's incapacitation, Rita Skeeter had tried various means to enter the hospital wing and had finally been banished from the school by Dumbledore when Harry had picked off a beetle wearing glasses from Ginny's hair.

Many of Harry and Ginny's well wishers had come to visit them over the past few days, most of whom wanted the real story about what had happened down in the depths of the castle between Harry, Ginny, Dumbledore, and Voldemort. Seamus, Dean, and Lavender had been in to see them on more than one occasion and Luna and Neville had strode in arm in arm on the second day after they had first awoken. Luna had seemed to be dressed slightly more plainly this time – for her at least – and even Harry noticed that Neville seemed considerably more at ease in her company. Ginny, who had not failed to notice the change herself, tried to exchange a conspiratorial nod with Luna but she did not seem to take notice.

"So you've really been down to the lair of the Xenophobes?" she remarked in a low voice, looking around to make sure that Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot. "Were they really in league with You-Know-Who? Or is that just what they wanted you to say to protect their secrecy?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, neither quite sure how to respond.

"Don't worry," said Luna following their silence. "I expect they've cursed you to be instantly vaporized should you breathe their existence to a living soul. I won't ask anymore."

Having been absent from Harry's life for most of the year, Professor Lupin visited their bedside more than anyone else. He was particularly solicitous over Harry and Ginny sensed regret and perhaps guilt that he had not been able to stay together with him sooner considering the ordeal he had gone through. It was not lost on Ginny that Lupin was the last surviving member of his father's group of friends – save for Wormtail, of course – and she knew that there were parts of Harry's loss for Sirius that only he could really heal. She hoped that they would have chance to grow closer in the future and that the days that Lupin had spent with them together in the hospital wing might be a start.

It was not especially remarkable to Ginny that Professor Lupin seemed much more haggard than she remembered from his days as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher or even from the time he had spent at Grimmauld Place the previous year. After all, he must have been through a great deal as well that year, too. But more than this, it seemed to Ginny that while everyone else was looking relieved that Voldemort's threat had been put to a stop, Lupin was often still anxious and on edge. It did not come as much of a surprise to Ginny when, on the day that they were finally released from the hospital wing, and Lupin had returned to help them take their belongings back to Gryffindor Tower, that he told Harry there was something urgent he had needed to discuss with him. He did not say that their discussion should take place in private but Ginny sensed he preferred it that way. And so, over Harry's objections, she had volunteered to take both of their trunks back to the tower and wait there for him.

As Ginny walked down the long corridor back to the tower by herself, however, she couldn't help but be struck by how eerily quiet the castle was. It was now a full week after the Hogwarts Express had left back for London and the school seemed mostly deserted. As Ginny absent-mindedly levitated the two trunks up and down like two sides of a weighing scale, she realized that she and Harry had not been apart for longer than she had been held captive by Snape (now Dumbledore) since the moment they had first kissed. If anything, their time together as a couple had made Ginny's love for Harry grow stronger and she had no sooner walked very far from the hospital wing when she longed to be back in his company again.

As Ginny continued her walk to Gryffindor Tower, she tried not to think of these things, however. She and Harry were safe and together and that was what mattered. This pleasant thought carried Ginny all the way to the portrait hole outside the Gryffindor common room. She had just realized that she had no idea what the password was now when the Fat Lady smiled engagingly, held her hand out and said:

"For you, my dear, this door will always be open."

Ginny smiled and went inside. She had fully expected the common room to be empty like the hallway outside. However, it was not and by the time Ginny had taken two steps inside what she saw made the two trunks she had been levitating fall to the floor with a very loud crash.

* * *

Harry felt his cheeks flush as he strode across the stone corridors and took the steps to the next floor two at a time. He knew he should really go back and check on Ginny first but he also realized that if he did not take care of things right this instant, he wouldn't be able to think of anything else. He had to know. He had to hear it from him. And he had to find out why.

He reached the stone gargoyle.

"Fizzing Whizzbees," he called out.

The wall parted and Harry wound his way up the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Amanda pulled away from what seemed to have been a very long passionate kiss with Colin Creevey at the sound of Ginny and Harry's trunks crashing to the floor.

"Ginny?"

"Ginny!"

"Er, hi, I – I thought – what are you two doing – doing still here, I mean? I thought you would have left by now."

"Er, well, we wanted to make sure you were O.K. and out of the hospital wing before we left," said Amanda unconvincingly.

"It's great to see you up and about, Ginny," said Colin, sounding as if he had swallowed too much of a throat soothing charm. "I – I – I think I have to go upstairs and develop some film. Th – they want some of my pictures for the Prophet, you know."

Ginny found it difficult to suppress a giggle as Colin turned heel and ran up the steps to the boys' dormitories.

She looked back at Amanda whose own face was deeply red, a wordless question on her face.

"Well," Amanda said finally. "I can't explain it either. I still think he's a prat."

Ginny smiled.

The door to the portrait hole opened again. Ginny did not turn to see who was coming fully expecting it to be Harry but when she heard Amanda gasp and saw the surprised look in her eyes, she looked back around and stifled her own exclamation.

It was Ron.

"Hi," he said, his face smiling but his eyes full of questions.

Ginny stood shocked still for a moment.

"Hermione's downstairs," said Ron, a little quickly. "She has our things. And Mum and Dad are here, too. I went up first to look for you in the infirmary but – "

Ron's explanation was cut off when Ginny ran up and put her arms around him, tears streaming down her face.

"I thought you were dead, you git," she exclaimed.

Ron let his own arms fall gingerly around his sister's back.

"Yeah, well, I thought I was, too, until I woke up. Bloody nasty headache, I can tell you."

Ginny let go of her brother and studied him carefully.

"Th – they didn't even give you a levitation stick or a cast," she said incredulously.

"Yeah, well, they said I didn't need any as long as I took it easy for a few weeks. I can tell you I still ache all over though. It was enough to walk up those steps. And I still can't get this horrible taste out of my mouth from when they made me take the Skele-Gro. Awful, awful stuff. I don't know how Harry – "

"Your face doesn't hurt, does it?" asked Ginny gently, smoothing Ron's collar bone with her hand.

Ron looked at his sister strangely.

"N – no," he said tentatively. "That's about the only part of me that doesn't. W- why do you ask?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you."

Ginny slapped Ron across his left cheek.

* * *

There was a soft flutter of wings as a baby Fawkes perched his small claws on Harry's outstretched index finger.

"Hello, Fawkes," said Harry, suddenly feeling all of the tension rush away from his body. "I haven't forgotten how you saved me - again."

Fawkes purred softly and nuzzled his beak over the top of Harry's fingernail.

"Harry?" said a voice.

Harry looked up to see Dumbledore at his desk.

Fawkes flew back to his cage as if on cue.

And then suddenly all of Harry's tension seemed to return.

"This is an unexpected surprise," said Dumbledore, gesturing for Harry to take the chair in front of his desk.

But there was something in Dumbledore's eyes that told Harry his visit wasn't a surprise at all. He had the sudden feeling that Dumbledore had been dreading this moment for a very long time but still possessed the courage not to try and do anything to avoid it.

But Harry did not allow this sudden strange feeling to change his mind about what he had to say to the headmaster. He did not take Dumbledore's offer of a seat. Instead, he looked directly into his eyes and said:

"I've just been talking to Professor Lupin. You didn't kill Voldemort, did you?"

Dumbledore sighed. For a sudden horrible moment, Harry had the feeling he was not going to reply at all or worse that he was going to attempt some feeble form of lie. Instead, Dumbledore sank wearily into his chair and said:

"No, Harry, I did not."

Harry felt his body stiffen. He had wanted to stand up to Dumbledore on his own terms, to use his own manipulative logic against him, to destroy his reasoning rather than the precious artifacts in his office, but while Albus Dumbledore was very skilled at keeping his own thoughts to himself, he had the uncanny ability to force others to show him exactly what it was they were feeling even when they were not always aware of it themselves. Harry felt an enormous, almost unbearable anger rise up from inside of him. He was angry at Dumbledore for betraying him when he had trusted and defended him in front of his friends for so long. But more than that, Harry was angry at himself for blindly following the headmaster and defending him in front of his friends. He knew in his heart of hearts that he had done so not because Dumbledore had earned that trust, but because he, Harry, had been unwilling to take responsibility for what he had done and what he would have to do. Harry felt his fists start to clench and unclench and when he opened his mouth to speak, raw anger spilled out as surely as if Dumbledore was standing there extracting it from his gut.

"Why?" he demanded. "Because of some stupid prophecy! You could have killed him and all this could be over!"

"I could not have killed him," replied Dumbledore calmly.

"He was about to die himself!" Harry decided angrily. "You could have just let him die even but, no, you saved him, didn't you? That's what you did!"

"I did not save him nor would I ever try to save him."

Harry ignored Dumbledore.

"You saved him just so that I could – that I would be the one – you don't care how many more people will die because of him, do you, just so long as I meet my destiny? You're obsessed with this prophecy! You've been obsessed for years! The story just has to end the way you think it should, doesn't it? You have to be right! Albus Dumbledore can never be wrong about anything, can he? WELL, THIS TIME HE IS. I'M NOT DOING IT! IF HE COMES BACK, YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM, NOT ME!"

Harry's eye caught hold of a very delicate model of the revolving planets Dumbledore always kept on his desk. Harry had destroyed it the year before but there it sat again, magically repaired, no doubt reminding Dumbledore that it was Harry's fate to kill Voldemort. Well, if he had to break it a thousand times to convince Dumbledore that there was no such thing as fate and prophecy, then he would do just that. Harry's hand reached angrily for the model but before he could connect, Dumbledore's own hand reached out with surprising speed and restrained his wrist.

"Harry, listen to me carefully," he said steadily, "because what I'm about to say is very important and it is crucial that you understand it – eventually, if not today. First of all, I did not kill Voldemort because I do not possess the means to do so."

Harry was not sure why but he suddenly found his anger ebbing out of him like air from a burst balloon. He quickly found himself sitting down across from the headmaster exactly as Dumbledore had asked him to do when he had first entered the office. He was not sure what he felt now. It seemed that all he could do was shake his head with incredulity.

"You can't kill him?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

A hollow laugh escaped from Harry's chest.

"If you can't kill him, maybe you can explain how it is that I will be able to kill him?"

But Dumbledore shook his head again.

"I cannot, Harry. But I know that whatever it is, you are not prepared for it yet. Voldemort knew that, too. That is why he wanted to kill you now – first – before you were prepared to fight back. That is why I wanted to trap him. I knew that if I could make Voldemort weak enough, I could force him out of his present body. And in doing so, I could give you the time you needed to prepare to face him when he returns again."

Harry frowned.

"And the second reason?"

Dumbledore paused but continued to look steadily at Harry.

"The second reason, Harry, is that even if by some means, I had managed to kill Lord Voldemort, it would not have brought any lasting peace to the wizarding world because it would mean that I would have taken his place."

If Harry had felt confused as to what Dumbledore had said to this point, it seemed nothing to what he felt now.

"B- but you could never – you would never – "

"Precisely, Harry, and I did not. But if I had, I would have."

Harry shook his head again. "I – I don't understand."

Dumbledore placed the tops of his finger tips together.

"I did not kill Voldemort because it was not my place to do so. If I had it would be because I desired power and then I would, indeed, be like him. And I would not have stopped at his death."

"Wh – what did you do to Voldemort, sir?" Harry asked, almost fearful of the answer. "I thought he was dead, but that spell or curse or whatever – "

Dumbledore nodded.

"The dark magic that rendered everyone in the original room temporarily unconscious but had an especially severe effect on both yourself and Ginny, having as you have, experienced a great many more terrors than many of the others was the effect of Voldemort's soul leaving his body as my curse commanded it to do. I daresay that with all of the darkness in Voldemort's soul, you would not have felt worse if a dozen Dementors had crowded in on you. But there was little I could have done to avoid it and I knew that the effect would pass in time."

"So he's gone, now, just like he was when – "

Harry paused for a moment, his breath catching in his throat.

" – when I first faced him," he added quietly, "and when he left Professor Quirrell."

Dumbledore held up a finger.

"Not exactly the same way, Harry. Similar, yes, but not the same. You see, there was another part to the curse I put on Voldemort. It was as far as I could go and even then I was able to do so only because Voldemort was in such a weakened state when I cast the curse, both physically and magically. When Voldemort next returns, he will be trapped inside an ordinary body. He will have none of the same powers he has cultivated over the years to keep himself alive. When that time comes, he will be mortal, and can be killed for good, at least until he finds his way out of the condition, which I wouldn't completely put past him."

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry cautiously. "When he comes back - 'trapped inside an ordinary body' – but when I was down in the Chamber, he was inside my body. It felt just like it did that time in the Ministry of Magic only there was no snake. This time he – sir, what if he – what if I – "

Dumbledore was already shaking his head.

"You needn't worry. It is true, yes, that you will always share a bond with him. But I believe that Lord Voldemort's specific ability to project his mind into your body had much to do with the magic he used to return that night of the Third Task. It was no doubt why he wanted to use you instead of one of his other enemies. But unless he returns by the same means again next time – and I have made it very difficult for him to do so – he will not be able to possess anyone again not, that is, unless they allow him into their minds of their own free will."

"L – like Professor Quirrell did?"

Dumbledore nodded somberly.

Harry swallowed. "I shouldn't think anyone would want to do that."

Dumbledore looked up at Harry very darkly.

"Oh, I'm afraid there are those who might. The important thing, Harry, is that it will not be very easy for him to return soon. He was very fortunate to come across Professor Quirrell and even more lucky to have been discovered by Wormtail. And when he does finally return again, Harry, you will be old enough and strong enough to face him."

Harry frowned.

"Before he – well, before he – before you made him leave his body, Voldemort said something about the 'twin prophecies.' He said that was why you couldn't kill him.'"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, smiling a slightly tired looking smile. "He was referring to an old prophecy, one that was made when he was still Tom Riddle and a student at Hogwarts, one that was also told me by a very bright young centaur. It was what led me to suspect that it was really Riddle who had opened the Chamber of Secrets and not Hagrid as most believed. Riddle did not know of it at the time but later, as Voldemort, he discovered its content. The centaur spoke of Riddle as a powerful wizard who would one day use fear to unite many to his side. He also said that Voldemort's final death could only come at the cost of my own downfall."

"Downfall?" repeated Harry nervously. "Y – you mean that Voldemort cannot die unless you die with him?"

Dumbledore smiled benignly.

"It might mean that, Harry, but then again it might mean something altogether different. I cannot say. Voldemort tried to use it against me for many years but even at the time of his first quest for power I was much too old for those sorts of tricks. I doubt that Voldemort ever quite realized that prophecies are less predictions of future events that they are excellent judges of character. And this particular centaur was exceptionally skilled in that regard."

Harry shook his head as many had done before him, trying to make sense of all that Dumbledore had said. He had walked into the headmaster's office full of anger and resolve but after hearing all this, he was no longer sure what to think. He had almost made up his mind to leave the office when Dumbledore leaned across his desk and said:

"I believe you had another question for me, Harry. By all means, ask away."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, struggling to remember whether he had told the headmaster he had more than one thing on his mind when he had walked in the office. But at this point, it seemed he had little choice but to speak out aloud what he now had strangely much less resolve to say.

"Y – you – " Harry started and then paused.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Did you really have to use Ginny like that?" Harry asked, almost in a whisper. "You knew that Voldemort was trying to get into her mind; you knew he was giving her nightmares; you knew how much she was suffering. But you let it all go on so that you could trap Voldemort."

Dumbledore's smile faded and he leaned back slightly but continued to look Harry in the eye. He seemed to start to speak twice but then stopped both times. Finally, on the third occasion he opened his mouth and said, in what seemed to Harry a surprisingly old and gravelly voice:

"Harry, I hope to beg your indulgence once again to listen very closely to what I have to say: there are few things in this school that are not known to me. I knew that you had found out about the philosopher's stone your first year as I knew that someone was trying to steal it. As I did not know who, I used you to discover things that I could not. The headmaster of the school has quite a bit of power and knowledge but there are always those things which a first-year student will inevitably learn that he does not. I allowed you and your friends to go many places you never should have been allowed to go. In many ways, I used you to find who was trying to steal the stone and it almost cost you your life. If you are angry with me for that, then I deserve it. But I also knew that in risking your life, I was giving you some small freedom from many of the demons that were haunting your soul. Voldemort had killed your parents and you needed to confront him."

Harry found some of his anger returning like a tide that was coming into a shore as suddenly as it had receded.

"What has this got to do with Ginny?" he asked impatiently.

"Everything, Harry. Everything. I hope very much that you will listen closely to what I have to say for if you are going to pursue a romantic friendship with Ginny, it is very important for you to know."

A part of Harry that was not yet angry with Dumbledore appreciated that the headmaster wasn't shying away or looking down on his romantic affairs, as he imagined some of the other teachers might have. And perhaps because of that, he paid Dumbledore the courtesy of doing as he asked and listening.

"You are not the only one in this school with a score to settle with Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore went on. "I have watched Ginny Weasley for some time. Voldemort made her suffer many horrors, some of which we know, but others that I fear she has as yet told no one about. With the most loving intentions in the world, her family and friends smothered her, tried to over-protect her, and consequently closed both her and themselves away from understanding what she really needed most of all: to face Voldemort on her own terms just like you did first of all those few years ago when you confronted Professor Quirrell. And now she has been able to do that."

"But you didn't give her a choice!" protested Harry.

"And I could not have!" replied Dumbledore, his own voice raised ever so slightly. "Voldemort was reading her mind. If she knew what I did, then all of us would have been finished. And then where would we be?"

"Then at least you could have told me?"

"No, Harry. I did not know how far your friendship with Ginny went. If I had told you and asked you to keep it from her, it would have destroyed the fragile trust she most needed to forge with you and believe me, Harry, that would have been a far, far worse thing than for her to have died at Voldemort's hands. I hope that Ginny will teach you, Harry, what she understands and Voldemort does not: that death is a far less fearful thing than the loss of one's soul."

Harry looked at Dumbledore quizzically.

"You needn't worry, Harry," he said, a slight twinkle returning to his eyes. "It is not my habit to use magic to pry into the private lives of my students. I have, however, learned, as one does over the years, to observe others closely. I happened to be watching as you could not have the expression on Ginny's face when you embraced at the beginning of the year in the Gryffindor common room and I knew it could mean only one thing. I was very fortunate to be able to see that just as I left to begin to put into place our plans to stop Voldemort. It helped to remind me what, in fact, I was supposed to be fighting for. Otherwise, I fear that in the complex strands of my plans, I might have forgotten, and that would have been very regretful indeed."

Harry paused for a long moment during which Dumbledore continued to study him as if he had no other care in the world than to watch him. It was after what must have been several minutes that Dumbledore finally said, very gently:

"There is something else you wish to ask me, Harry, isn't there?"

"H – how was I able to resist Voldemort – in that dream – a – and when he possessed me – in the original room? It should have been just like before. And I never practiced any more Occlumency. I should have been weaker not stronger!"

Dumbledore paused himself and stared back at Harry thoughtfully. While his face was otherwise lined in deep seriousness, the slightest trace of a sparkle began to dance in the pupil of his right eye.

"I think you know the answer to that question yourself, Harry, or you would not have chosen this moment to ask me."

"I – it was Ginny," said Harry slowly, looking more at Dumbledore's desk than up at the headmaster, as if he was carrying on a conversation with himself. "I – I kept thinking about protecting her in the dream, a – and in the original room, when Voldemort was inside my head, I only kept thinking about her. I – I couldn't hurt her – I wouldn't let him hurt her," he decided. "And somehow – "

Harry did not say another word. He looked up at Dumbledore. Very slightly, almost as if it was mostly in Harry's imagination, the headmaster started to nod.

"'He will have power the Dark Lord knows not,'" Harry quoted. "That power – my power is Ginny. That's why Voldemort was always afraid of her."

But this time Dumbledore shook his head.

"I do not deny that Ginny had a power over Voldemort, a power that he did not – and will never – understand. But the power is not hers alone. You also have that power, Harry, as I told you last year in my office at this very same time. It is what saved you from Voldemort when he first tried to kill you. It is what rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets and it is what I knew would prevent you both from being killed by Voldemort again this time. And it something that Voldemort does not know and will never understand. It is love, Harry; your power is love."

Harry looked back at Dumbledore for a very long time. He felt suddenly unsure what it was that he was supposed to be feeling, let alone saying. It was when Harry had started to feel sure that his indecision would never resolve that Dumbledore said:

"If you don't have any more questions, Harry, I'm afraid Minister Fudge will be on his way here any minute. I've no doubt he is concerned once again to rescue what is left of his job."

"Oh, oh, right," said Harry a little clumsily. He got up from his chair.

"One more thing, Harry," said Dumbledore as he neared the door. "As much as you all may have disliked my arrangements to trick Voldemort, I'm afraid I cannot take full credit. While I was responsible for some of the details, most of the plan was devised by Professor Nevins. I was quick to inform the Ministry of this while you were still unconscious and they have already planned to award him the Order of Merlin, First Class. Unfortunately, he is doing his best to appeal the decision. I thought perhaps you might talk to him. I think he is in his office now."

Harry nodded and turned around to leave.

"Harry."

Harry turned around again to see that the odd vulnerability and hesitancy he had seen in Dumbledore's eyes when he had first walked into his office seemed to have returned.

"As I think you are aware now, while you were sleeping, the Ministry was very busy rounding up the remaining Death Eaters and preparing them for trial and sentencing, hopefully into a more secure prison than Azkaban proved to be without the aid of the Dementors. As a result of information they have learned during their interrogations, and along with testimony provided by Professor Snape and Professor Lupin, the aurors performed a number of raids on the hiding places many of the Death Eaters used. They found many things – magical and otherwise – to make a further case against them. Much of this they kept as evidence but I persuaded them to have me to return something that once belonged to you."

Dumbledore moved his palm over a panel in the wall at the side of the room, larger but not unlike the one in which Harry had seen Winky disappear at the beginning of the autumn term. The wall moved back to reveal a small closet. Dumbledore reached inside and took out Harry's battered but still intact Firebolt.

"Why Lucius Malfoy kept it," said Dumbledore quietly as he handed the broomstick back to a wondering Harry, "I don't suppose we'll ever find out. Perhaps he wanted to prove to Voldemort that he'd tried his best to stop you. Perhaps he merely wanted to have a trophy to remind him of his fleeting cleverness. Whatever the case, it will now remind us that he did not succeed."

Harry watched the Firebolt mesmerized. There was no doubt in his mind it was his. He ran his finger gently over the still vibrating handle, collecting a small layer of dust as he did so. And then just as if he had been visited by the same powers that had led Voldemort to learn the history of Ginny's old diary, Harry felt as though he could see in an instant every moment of this broomstick's history – its mysterious appearance, how Sirius had watched from the stands as he had flown around the Quidditch pitch on it, and how he had seemed to feel his godfather's spirit urging him on as he had used it to outrun the Death Eaters when they had chased him over and through the Forbidden Forest. Harry had felt many emotions in Dumbledore's office that morning. It almost seemed unremarkable when he looked up at the now blurred face of the headmaster, twin teardrops running underneath his glasses and down his cheeks.

And then it seemed that Harry no longer felt like resisting when Dumbledore, his own old eyes suddenly filling with sad tears, pulled Harry toward him in a firm but loving embrace.

* * *

"Er, I – I – I think I'll go upstairs, too," stammered Amanda. "I have some – some packing to do."

Ron touched his cheek gingerly, less out of pain than surprise. But he did not need to stop and ask his sister why she had just struck him. Neither of them spoke but they continued to stare at each other for a long minute. The only sound that could be heard was Amanda rushing quickly up the stairs to her dormitory but even this was ignored by both of the Weasleys.

"Ginny," said Ron quietly. "Look, I – "

"Why did you – how could you – why did you go and say that to him?" Ginny spat, her eyes filling with angry and hurt tears. "I've been trying to stop him the whole year from brooding over Sirius!"

"I – I have, too, I – "

Ginny ignored her brother's interruption.

"I'd only just that morning finally gotten him to open up to me about it and then you go along and tell him that he was the one who killed Sirius after all. And don't tell me that wasn't what you meant to say!"

Ron stopped and thought for a moment. Would he have said it if he hadn't stopped himself? Is that what he had really meant? Ginny's eyes continued to stare daggers at him, daring him to deny it. And Ron suddenly knew that he could not. As horrible as it seemed it was exactly what Ron had been thinking that day. Facing him down like that in the bathroom, Ron had only thought of how Harry was leading them all into danger, how he had been too stubborn to see how Ron had to find some way – any way – to make him see reason even if it had meant sticking a knife into his best friend's heart.

"I – I didn't mean to – I – I don't know what made me say it. I – I – I was panicked and scared, all right?"

"We were all scared, Ron! That's not an excuse."

"Well you didn't act very scared!" Ron retorted, suddenly defensive. "Sitting there snogging him while You-Know-Who was coming to find you!"

"I thought you were all keen on Harry and I getting together!" Ginny snapped back. "Not exactly how you imagined things, was it?"

"Well, no! I thought he'd look after you, not try to get you killed!"

"If you want me to have a boyfriend who just closes me off and over-protects me then you picked the wrong person!"

Ron didn't say anything.

"He was telling you the truth, you know, Ron," said Ginny, her eyes full of feeling. "He'd only just told me how he felt. He had only just realized it. He followed me because he wanted me to know the truth before he died. And you couldn't understand that, could you?"

Ron found he could do little else but hang his head low.

"I expect he's had some pretty awful things to say about me since the two of you woke up."

Ginny shook her head.

"But he hasn't. You saved his life down there in that room. He must have described it to me five times. So he'll never hold anything against you. He'll just stew on it in his heart and your friendship will never be the same but I don't want that and I don't think you should either."

"I – I – look, Ginny, do you want me to apologize? Is that it? I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head.

"I don't want you to apologize to me, Ron," said Ginny, her voice growing softer. "I want you to apologize to Harry. It's him you hurt - and yourself if you can realize it. You couldn't find the strength to stop yourself from hurting him when you were afraid. But you have to find the strength to stop his pain now."

"I – I – of course, I know that. I – OK, OK, Gin, I'll apologize to him."

"Then you and I have no quarrel."

* * *

Harry marched restlessly through the corridors still cradling his Firebolt in his arms. He very much wanted to get back to Ginny now even as he dreaded having to tell her that Voldemort was not really dead. But he also knew that he had to talk to Nevins before he left and that if he didn't, he would keep churning the whole thing around in his mind. He had been very angry about the risks Dumbledore had taken when he had thought the plan had been his but strangely, now that it had turned out to be Nevins' idea, he found himself feeling much more sympathetic.

Harry rounded the corner to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and knocked on the door, as he had so many times before that year.

"Come in," called Nevins' voice as it had for each of their private sessions.

Harry opened the door and entered the office. He noticed immediately that it was almost completely bare once more, as persistent an annual ritual as Halloween and the end of term feast. Nevins himself was hastily shoving a large number of books into a trunk and staring at it thoughtfully as if considering whether to use magic to enlarge the insides.

"Harry," said Nevins, a little brusquely. "You're just in time. I'll soon be off."

Harry found himself asking the obvious.

"You're leaving?"

Nevins looked up as if noticing him there properly for the first time.

"What? Oh, yes. I'm afraid so."

"But I'd hoped – couldn't you stay?"

Nevins gave Harry what seemed like a very forced smile.

"Oh, no, Harry. I'm looking forward to getting back to retirement now. I only agreed to take the post to help Professor Dumbledore against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and now that he's gone – "

"HIS NAME IS VOLDEMORT! WHY CAN'T YOU SAY IT? YOU DEFEATED HIM!"

Nevins stopped short and stared at Harry.

"Sir," Harry added quietly.

Nevins looked at Harry for a moment longer, then sighed and said quietly:

"On the contrary, Harry. It was you who defeated him. You and Ginny – and Dumbledore, of course. I was the one who put your lives in danger."

"B – but, sir," protested Harry. "If it weren't for you, we might all have been killed and Voldemort might have won. Your plan was brilliant – desperate, but brilliant."

"You think so, Harry?" said Nevins, still studying the inside of his trunk. "I think not. It's very easy to sit back and think up plans when it's other people that have to put their lives on the line or end up in hospital wings for days on end."

"You've been offered the Order of Merlin, First Class. Why won't you accept it?"

Nevins straightened up and looked down at the trunk with satisfaction. He placed an enormous pile of books that remained on the desk inside it and closed the lid. He took his wand out and levitated the trunk a few inches off the floor. It was only after he had done these things that he turned back to look at Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore sent you down here, didn't he?"

"I don't always do Dumbledore's bidding."

"In that case, I'll tell you, then: I don't deserve it, Harry," Nevins said flatly, the smile not leaving his face. "Professor Dumbledore deserves it. Your parents deserved it. You deserve it, even. But not me. You needn't worry, though, I'm sure the Ministry will find a way to pin it to my chest in any case."

Harry shook his head.

"You're wrong, sir."

Nevins sighed.

"I pray you'll never discover that I was right, Harry. It seems I'm ready to leave, then. It's been a pleasure, Harry. I've no doubt we'll get to see each other again some time."

Nevins held out his hand.

Harry looked at it for a moment before grasping it firmly. He looked up almost defiantly into Nevins' eyes.

"The pleasure was mine, sir. I hope you'll reconsider."

Nevins looked almost about to reply but then shook Harry's hand and, moving his trunk toward the door, he turned the handle and stepped out. He did not look back.

Harry slumped down on a chair in the once again vacant office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts master.

* * *

Ginny sat on her bed and sighed. She had blocked Ron's confrontation with Harry out of her mind as if it, like everything else that had happened to them that day of the final Hogsmeade weekend had all been merely another one of her nightmares. But when she had seen her brother again, the hurt had just come flowing back to her. She wondered if it would to Harry, too. She looked anxiously at her watch, wondering when either Harry would return or her parents and brothers would come upstairs to help fetch Ron and Hermione's things. She finally stood up and made her way to the door. She was tired of waiting. She was going to find someone and do something other than pack her own things. She muttered something to Amanda about going out and made her way out into the corridor.

Ginny had no sooner taken the first step down to the common room when a voice behind her said:

"Ginny."

Ginny gasped and swung around. She knew exactly whom that voice belonged to.

"Hermione!"

Not pausing to think about the still sensitive injuries to most of Hermione's body, Ginny ran up and threw her arms around her friend.

But Ginny's smile faded when she released from the hug and saw the anxiety beneath Hermione's own smile.

"Ron told you about our talk, didn't he? I – I'm sorry, Hermione, I – "

Hermione shook her head. "You told him what he had to hear. You did the right thing, Ginny. It will be O.K."

Ginny smiled again but Hermione still looked anxious.

"What is it?"

Hermione shook her head. Her lower lip started to tremble and tears welled in her eyes.

"I guess I shouldn't have hit him. I'm really sorry, I – "

But Hermione shook her head more vigorously.

"It's not about that," she said. "I – I – Ginny, I would have died for Harry. I wanted to die for him. But it's not like – it's not – do you understand?"

Ginny nodded.

"I'll take good care of him for you, I promise."

Hermione nodded.

"And I'll take of Ron."

And then the two friends held each other for a very long time.

* * *

When Harry returned to the common room, he found it strangely empty. He called out Ginny's name for a while up the stairs to the girls' dormitories but there was no response. Feeling restless at having to postpone the terrible news he was going to have to give her, Harry reluctantly made his way up to his own empty room and started to pack his things, not really feeling like doing so, but strangely having little else to do. After carefully laying his Firebolt on the bed, he started to empty the contents of one drawer, suddenly remembering that it wouldn't be Privet Drive he would be dragging his trunk to anymore. This thought did not fail to brighten him still. He didn't know what it would take to kill Voldemort but he could worry about it after this summer was over.

At first, Harry paid little attention to what it was he was putting inside the trunk but then his hands caught hold of the book of photographs of his parents that Hagrid had given him as a present at the end of his first year. Without really thinking why, he started to turn the pages. There were his parents, of course, Sirius, smiling at their wedding – and Wormtail. And then –

Harry frowned as he saw something in the picture he had never noticed before.

He was still looking at the book some minutes later when there was a knock on the door and a voice said:

"Busy packing then, are we?"

He looked up to see Ginny. They both smiled at each other for a moment and Harry suddenly realized what Ron had meant when he told him that being in love with Hermione was like waking up every morning and knowing it was Christmas. All the knots that been tied in Harry's stomach about having to tell Ginny the truth about Voldemort seemed to untie at seeing her again and he wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time how it was she had never made him feel that way before. It just seemed so natural now.

Harry watched Ginny framed in the doorway for long enough to know that he was watching all the wonder in his eyes reflected back in hers when she rushed toward him and they embraced as if they had been apart for months and not hours. They stayed like that for a few more moments when Ginny suddenly stiffened and gasped.

"Harry!"

Harry let Ginny go and followed her gaze to his Firebolt on his bed.

"Th – that's…"

Ginny's voice trailed off as she touched the Firebolt gingerly with her fingers just as Harry had done himself in Dumbledore's office.

"But, Harry, that's your old one, isn't it? But how – "

Harry told Ginny how Dumbledore had returned the Firebolt to him, smiling a little oddly as he finished, as if not sure he should be doing so.

"Oh, Harry," said Ginny when he had finished. She took hold of his shoulders.

"I want you to have it. You're much too good a flyer to be using a Cleansweep."

Ginny gasped again.

"B – but Harry, I couldn't, it's yours. It's the one that Sirius – "

Ginny broke off but Harry shook his head.

"Call it a loan then. But it's still a good broomstick. It's meant to be used not stowed away like some sort of lost memory. And Sirius would have wanted it if he'd known how much you mean to me."

Ginny didn't seem to know what else to say. She hugged Harry again for a moment before settling for a sideways snuggle. It was then that she noticed for the first time the book that lay open on his lap.

"This is the book Hagrid gave you, isn't it? Ron told me about it."

"Look," said Harry, clutching onto her shoulder. "There. I never noticed it before."

He pointed to a corner of a picture of his parents' old home at Godric Hollow, beyond the young James and Lily holding a smiling, waving baby Harry to a patch of wildflowers growing haphazardly just outside their door.

"It's lavender," said Harry. "I always wondered why it was my favorite flower. I suppose I must have remembered somehow."

Harry's eyes started to mist over and Ginny held on a little more tightly.

"You started to wear it because of me, didn't you?" Harry said suddenly, looking at Ginny. "After I told you that night in the common room."

Ginny shook her head as Harry shot her an expression of mock suspicion.

"Honestly," Ginny said, her eyes full of innocence. "I've always liked lavender since I was a little girl. It grows in big clumps all around the garden at the Burrow. Ron and I used to play in it when we were little. I charmed all of my clothes and my bed sheets to give off the smell years ago." Ginny frowned slightly. "It's always calmed me, especially after I've had a nightmare."

Harry gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Then why didn't I notice it before?"

"Because – because, Harry, the charm only works when someone presses against me. And you were always too afraid to hold me back very tightly."

Harry ran a thoughtful hand through Ginny's hair.

"What is it?"

"Dumbledore and I talked for a long time before he gave me back that Firebolt and, well…."

Harry suddenly looked down at the book of photographs again.

Ginny lifted up his chin with her finger.

"He's not dead, is he?"

Harry gasped.

"How did you – "

"I know," said Ginny softly, her own head falling slightly. "I knew it as soon as I felt that horrible, icy feeling go right up my back in that room. I knew it could only be him, his soul still around, somewhere in that room."

Harry told Ginny the rest of what Dumbledore had told him.

"It's like he was before," finished Harry quickly, trying to sound more hopeful than he felt. "And this time it could be years before he comes back again. And we'll be much better prepared for him."

Ginny looked up into Harry's anxious eyes and touched her nose to his.

"The most important thing is we won't be alone now, Harry. Neither of us has to face him alone."

Harry started to reply but he soon gave it up as he realized that it was not words that either of them needed at that moment. He folded his arms around Ginny again at the same time as hers grabbed hold of him. It suddenly seemed as if their bodies had always meant to rest into each other's this way. Harry closed his eyes and let his hands wander through the silky strands of Ginny's hair rolling her curls through his finger tips. He was not sure how long he did this when a throat cleared somewhere in the background.

Both Ginny and Harry moved out of their embrace and looked up to the doorway.

"Er, I'm sorry," said Ron. "I – I – I think Hermione's nearly finished her trunk and I haven't started mine yet but – but don't mind me," he added rather pitifully. "You two go on – I mean, that is, if you – "

He broke off as Harry stood up and walked over to him, his eyes full of tears. Ron watched him for a moment unblinking and then the two friends shared another uncharacteristic embrace.

"I think I'll go and start on my own things," said Ginny quietly and moved her lithe body swiftly out of the room. She looked back briefly and saw that Harry was unable to disguise the anxious look on his face. Although she had told Ron the truth that they had talked nothing about him in the days they had been separated, Ginny sensed that Harry wanted her to do anything but leave him alone in that room with his best friend. But Ginny also knew that she could do nothing for their friendship by remaining. She went down to join Hermione and forced herself not to look back again.


	26. Lovers And Friends

Chapter 26

Lovers And Friends

Ron moved awkwardly out of their embrace and Harry saw that his eyes, too, were filled with tears. It was only the second time he had ever seen Ron cry, the first being when he had tried to ask Hermione to the Guy Fawkes ball, in what now seemed like a previous lifetime.

"Are you all right?" asked Harry.

Ron nodded. "You?"

"All right."

There was a pause.

"Listen, Ron."

"Listen, Harry."

The two friends smiled as the words came out of their mouths at the same time.

There was another pause and then Harry started to speak again.

"Look, Ron, before we go any further. I owe you a big apology."

Ron looked at Harry astounded.

"Y – you owe me an apology? Harry, what for?"

"I turned my back on you and Hermione. I shouldn't have. You were right. And it was you who saved our lives down in that room first of all. If I had gone in by myself, I would be dead by now."

"You saved my life, too, Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"It wouldn't have needed saving if it wasn't for my own stupidity."

Ron couldn't stand it any longer.

"Harry," he cried out, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "Mate, look, I'm sorry. I owe you an apology."

Harry was already shaking his head.

"No, look, Ron, just forget – "

But Ron was shaking his own head.

"No, I can't forget it. I – I said some terrible things to you, Harry. I don't know – "

"Ron, I said just forget – "

"Harry, I didn't mean what I said, honestly," said Ron very quickly. "I was mad because you hadn't told me about you and Ginny. I thought you'd been keeping it a secret. I didn't understand but now I do; she explained it to me. And I never really believed Hermione when she said you had a 'saving people thing' and I definitely don't think that what happened to Sirius was your – "

"SHUT IT!"

Harry fell down on to the bed, his hands over his ears. Ron stopped talking and looked up at him.

And then something seemed to snap inside Harry. He put his hands over his head and tried unsuccessfully to stop his own tears from falling down his face. When he looked up at Ron again, it was through very hurt-looking bloodshot eyes.

"You knew that I killed Sirius, didn't you? You all knew. I don't blame you, Ron, you were just being honest or you were about to be. But it's true, isn't it?"

Ron was mortified. This was far worse than even he had imagined it would be.

"No, no, Harry, you didn't and I didn't mean that you did. I – I was angry, all right, and – and I – I – I just got carried away. I know it's not a good reason. I…. "

Ron shook his head, clearly beside himself, tears once again threatening to fall.

Harry looked up at him, a horribly dark expression on his face.

"I don't suppose you can tell me whether you're telling me the truth now or you were telling it to me then?"

"Harry, do you want to hit me? You can, I won't stop you, I promise. I know; I deserve it."

But Harry just shook his head sadly and Ron suddenly felt far more stung than the worst of Harry's blows would have made him feel.

"I don't want to hit you, Ron," said Harry sadly.

Harry stood up again and looked at his best friend. He wanted to tell Ron how much he wanted to forget about everything he'd said that day. But he also knew that he wasn't going to be able to make himself forget that easily.

"Look, mate," he said, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. "We're OK for now, all right?"

Ron nodded, stifling a whimper.

"But I need you to think very carefully and after you've gotten over all the guilt, I want you to tell me if you really want to be my friend because friends don't say things to each other like you said to me down in that bathroom."

"I've already thought. I – "

But Harry shook his head.

"Not now. Later."

* * *

Constable Daniel Peters looked thoughtfully into his coffee cup as he idly strode the walkway between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross Station. His wife had kept him up late into the night, on about something or other he'd ought to have done before coming home the evening before, the details of which had now once again slipped the constable's somewhat fatigued mind. Peters considered for a moment how very much his wife often reminded him both in tone of voice and the habit of barking late in the night to the Fisher's dog and, smiling to himself at the similarity, looked up and blinked.

There was that family of red heads again. Yet it seemed they hadn't been there a moment before. Peters looked around to see if a train had just pulled up on either of the two platforms but curiously there didn't seem to be any. Peters was sure it was the same lot he'd seen the previous summer, only there seemed to be more of them this time. There was the man and the woman again, dressed slightly normally this time, although the man still wore non-matching canary yellow and lime green socks and ankle-revealing trousers. There was a tall young man who wore his fiery hair in a ponytail, possibly the eldest son, the twins again, the tall lanky boy, and his little sister. And then there was another boy, his jet black hair a straggly mess and a very odd scar on his forehead standing with his arm around the younger girl's waist. Peters looked at them curiously, wondering about whatever it was that might have happened wherever it was they had gone, when he felt a hand clasp him firmly on the shoulder.

The constable wheeled around, his hand reaching instinctively for his club, and found himself face to face with the wiry hair, toothless smile, and rancid breath of the same vagrant he had cited for liquor possession last summer.

"Sorry, there, guv'nor. Didn't mean to startle yeh or nothin'."

"I'd advise you to unhand me, sir. I am an officer of the Metropolitan Police."

"Oh, right yeh are there, guv'nor." The vagrant took his hand away from Peters' shoulder. "Got a bit cheeky, didn't I?"

Peters looked the vagrant up and down properly. He had to admit he'd seemed to have made some sort of effort to clean up his appearance now. At least, he'd shaved even if his clothes were mismatched and poorly fitting, curiously not unlike those of the red headed man, and his breath no longer seemed to smell of alcohol. Peters allowed himself an inward smile for the first time that day. Perhaps the gentle taste of the law had taught this indolent tramp a thing or two.

Peters frowned again as he noticed for the first time that the vagrant was wheeling some kind of trunk along behind him. He peered at it curiously. He could have sworn he saw stenciled on the side of the trunk the words:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
SUMMER ADULT EDUCATION PROGRAMME

The vagrant seemed to have noticed Peters peering at the words.

"What d'yeh think, guv'nor, eh, eh?"

"Well, sir, I – "

"Don't mean to be rude or nothin', guv'nor, but I owe this gent over 'ere a bit of an apology." The vagrant indicated the red headed man. "Turns out 'e weren't one o' 'em aliens, after all. He's a wizard and so am I!"

Peters sighed. He watched as the vagrant wheeled his trunk over to the family of red heads. He should have known that this lot would end up together somehow. He decided he had better watch at a discreet distance. There was no telling what they were really up to.

The vagrant reached into a frayed pocket in his jacket and produced a crumpled looking letter with an official looking seal on the back. Peters started to wonder whether he had stumbled across some form of secret society or mafia. Perhaps that scar on the boy's head was really a tattoo or initiation mark and the others all had it somewhere, too.

"Couldn't believe it but it's true, 'int it, guv'nor? Eh? They say I'm a late bloomer."

The vagrant's smile was returned by the red-headed man and every member of the red-headed family, the boy with the straggly hair in particular.

"Indeed it must be, sir," said the red headed man.

The vagrant leaned over to him conspiratorially.

"I feel a bit embarrassed asking, guv'nor, only I think there's been a bit of a foul up with me ticket. It says 'ere me train leaves from Platform nine-and-three-quarters."

"Ah, yes."

The red headed man's eyes darted around and took in Peters standing near them for the very first time. He leaned forward and whispered into the vagrant's ear.

Peters felt his heart beat start to increase. Platform nine-and-three-quarters. It must be some kind of code that they have to initiate the vagrant into. He took a cautious step forward already thinking of the possibilities for promotion if he could catch this lot red-handed, as it were. Perhaps he could get away from this wretched station after all and find a place behind a nice comfortable desk in a cushy office.

Peters was drawn back to attention as the vagrant moved away from the red-headed man in alarm. He looked back and forth from the motley group to what seemed like a plain brick wall that marked the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous," said the boy with the scar, smiling encouragingly.

"Good luck!" said the girl.

The vagrant's horrified expression slowly changed to a smile. Nodding once more to the red headed clan, he grasped the handle of his trolley tightly and before Peters' shocked eyes ran at full tilt straight toward the barrier.

"!" he bellowed.

The vagrant and his trolley disappeared through the wall. Peters' coffee cup fell to the ground and its contents showered his trousers.

"Oh, dear."

The red headed man took a long wooden stick out of a pocket in the inside of his jacket and walked slowly over to Peters and a growing crowd of onlookers all of whom were staring dumbfounded at the vagrant's ostentatious departure. Peters knew he ought to have reached for his club but his hand seemed to stay frozen in place.

"I'm terribly sorry about this," said the red headed man, addressing the crowd. He flicked his wooden stick and Peters' empty coffee cup flew into the constable's hand. "Hopefully they'll teach him some etiquette at school this summer."

Peters whimpered.

The next moment, however, he was staring at his empty coffee cup wondering how he had managed to drink up the contents so quickly. He looked around the station noticing an unusual number of lost-looking passengers, certain there was something important he had forgotten. After being unable to remember what it was, Peters sighed and looked at his watch. Time seemed to have passed much faster than usual. Now if he could only remember what he was supposed to get for his wife.

* * *

Within a day or so of Ron and Hermione's return to Hogwarts, all of the remaining occupants of Gryffindor Tower had packed their trunks and made their goodbyes to their teachers and friends. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Fred, George, and Bill, had accompanied them back from the school. Mr. Weasley had thought to arrange a portkey for them to return but Dumbledore insisted that they take the Hogwarts Express, saying that it still had to return to London to pick up passengers for the summer training program. And so the heroes of the Hogwarts siege along with their friends and admirers who had remained had the whole train to themselves. Even with the smaller number of passengers, the sweet cart attendant still did a very brisk trade.

There were many empty compartments on the train on this day but at least one was quite crowded. Ginny and Harry had become almost inseparable and nearly everywhere they went Ron and Hermione did, too. Harry was also very pleased when Professor Lupin joined them and he was surprised to find that he, too, could play a very mean game of Exploding Snap. It came as no surprise that Fred and George seemed to have learned the news about Harry and Ginny before they were reunited with their sister. They had taken a few early cracks at both of them but this had quickly died out when it seemed that everyone else no longer thought the relationship particularly remarkable. Once their verbal teasing had failed, they had amused themselves by trying to walk in between Harry and Ginny when they were holding hands but this, too, lost its interest after a time.

Hermione's parents had met her on the platform in London and she had left the others, promising to a much forlorn-looking Ron that she would come to the Burrow to visit later in the summer. Harry had been a little anxious that the Dursleys would arrive on the platform to meet him although part of him was looking forward to the opportunity to tell them to sod off. He was very certain that they wouldn't shed any tears over the thought of losing their nephew for good, either. But it soon seemed that someone – probably Dumbledore – had alerted the Dursleys that there was no need for them to go to the station this year. Harry could imagine the expression on Uncle Vernon's face as yet another owl flew into their house to deliver the news.

Once they had safely left the station, Harry had insisted on going out shopping with Professor Lupin in Muggle London though he didn't say why. It seemed obvious that the two of them had discussed their trip ahead of time in private. Ginny had still been holding his hand and had wanted to follow along but he'd asked her to stay with her parents and look after Hedwig and Snitch, whom he said he didn't trust to keep quiet in front of the Muggles. Ginny had been disappointed but she agreed partly because she suspected that Harry also had other reasons for wanting to shop without her

The days and nights once Ginny returned to the Burrow were some of the best she could ever remember. It seemed that Harry had returned to her all of the wonder of childhood and she wondered why she had not noticed it missing from her life for so long. On sunny days, she would go out with Harry and Ron to play Quidditch, harass the garden gnomes, or take turns playing hide-and-seek under Harry's invisibility cloak. On rainy days, she and Harry would sit alone in her room, tucked warmly together under her large blanket, playing with Mr. Sunshine or sharing stories from their childhood. Most of Ginny's stories were happy or funny but Harry's were often quite sad and when he shared them with Ginny, they both grew quite serious. Ginny had the habit of running her fingers gently through his unkempt hair as he talked as if she could pull out the strands of his troubles.

Ginny slept restlessly all summer, though it was a happy sort of restlessness. She would part reluctantly from Harry to return to her room to sleep each night. She always seemed to sleep lightly and her dreams never strayed too far from her conscious mind where she could always control them. She would often awake many times in the night, feeling the soft breezes blow in through her curtains and kiss the strands of her hair. Whenever this happened, she would try to return to sleep once again, hoping that the next time she awoke she would find it was morning again. As soon as light reached her eyes, she would spring from her bed and run to her brother's room to find Harry. Often he would already be up waiting for her but perhaps even more delightful were the times he was still asleep and she could rest at the side of his bed letting her finger run curiously over his scar and watching the look on his face as he woke and saw her standing over him. Ron, of course, appreciated these early morning visits much less but he did not seem able to stomach a cross word for either Harry or Ginny and settled for throwing up a silencing charm around his bed. Although Harry and Ron seemed quite happy in each other's company, Ginny saw enough to know there was still something unresolved between them. But Ginny was not a nosy person by character and, after having first started them along the path to reconciliation, she was sensitive enough to allow them to resolve their remaining differences alone.

By the end of the third week of the holidays, during a lengthy rainy spell, Hermione arrived at the Burrow and Ron no longer seemed as interested in perfecting his charms and sleeping in late in the morning. It was also during this time that Professor Lupin arrived to help Harry, Ron, and Hermione begin their apparation lessons. Members of the Order came to and fro over the summer as it seemed that there was now no need for them to secretly assemble in Grimmauld Place. Tonks had arrived for the occasional lunch and livened up the dull skies outside with transformations into caricatures of various Hogwarts professors. Mrs. Weasley had finally drawn the line when she had turned into Snape complete with a nose that reached down to the top of the kitchen table. Even Mundungus Fletcher put in the odd appearance, often with news of the twins' joke shop, which seemed to cause Mrs. Weasley even further consternation.

Finally, when the house seemed as if it could no longer contain all of its impatient occupants, the clouds had cleared in the west to bathe the house and its garden in an enchanted red glow that showed off the green in Harry's eyes. The next bright sunny morning, Ginny had awoken with an energy that belied her restless sleep and she and Harry decided it was a perfect day for a walk and a picnic. They had asked Ron and Hermione to come along but it was quickly clear that they had their own plans. Walking out to the garden, they found Tonks with her wand poised over an outdoor cooking fire trying to set it alight.

"The Order is having a bit of a get together today and I'm preparing supper," she announced brightly. "And I'm afraid it's a touch on the awkward side," she added.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley made her way out into the garden with a slightly strained-looking smile.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave that to me, Tonks?"

"I think I've got the hang of it this time, thanks, Mol – "

Tonks' sentence ended in a sharp yelp as she withdrew several singed fingers that had wandered too near the fire.

"Are you sure you don't need our help?" asked Ginny in a tone that suggested she would rather do anything but.

"No, not at all, dear," replied Mrs. Weasley, looking fondly between Harry and Ginny in such a way that Harry was forced to blush and pretend to become interested in the adventures of a colony of ants on the ground. "You two run along now."

They next ran into Professor Lupin. With a pang of guilt, Harry remembered that he had promised to begin their apparation lessons on the first fine day. Harry had been very excited at the time but, strangely, he didn't feel quite so enthusiastic now.

"S – so you think it's a good day to start our apparation lessons?" asked Harry after they had exchanged greetings, unable to keep the frown off his face.

Lupin returned Harry's question with an unusual smile.

"No, Harry, I think it's far too nice a day for that. And from the looks of things, it seems you two have plans."

Ginny did not miss the wink that he flashed toward Harry. With nothing and no one else to stop them, the two Gryffindors left the Burrow that morning to walk its surrounding hills, Ginny carrying their enchanted picnic basket and Harry a strange looking package that Ginny tried her best not to ask about. Sometimes they talked but after a summer of conversation they did not have many topics left untouched and so for most of that morning, they walked in silence. Once long ago, Ginny had not known what Harry had felt about her and their silence had revealed the distance between them. But on this day, theirs was a silence that came from already knowing one another's feelings and no longer needing to always say the words.

Finally, they settled on a spot under a cluster of maple trees that was still worn from all of the summers where Ginny had rested there on her solitary walks. She removed a large blanket that was several times the size of the basket it which it had been brought and laid it down on the still damp earth. As she and Harry took out the many ingredients for their picnic, Ginny was struck by how much life there was teeming all around them: the songs of the birds that flew to examine their picnic seemed like an orchestra serenading them as they ate accompanied by the rustle of the leaves above their head and the soft buzz of a wasp moving from flower to flower beside them. Two butterflies danced back and forth in front of their eyes, playing and dancing together, the bright yellow of their wings brilliantly set against the bright blue sky above them. Ginny wondered whether they were watching her and Harry the same way that she saw them. It was as if the whole of nature knew like they did that now that the Dark Lord was gone, it was safe to come out and play again.

Ginny and Harry ate mostly in silence. When they had finished, however, as they watched the birds and the insects happily gather what still remained of their lunch, Ginny looked up at Harry and said:

"I've been wondering what's in that package all summer, you know."

Harry smiled mischievously.

"All right," he said. "But first I've got to give you something else."

Harry reached into the front pocket of his shirt and produced Snitch whom it seemed had been sleeping most of the morning and was only now awake. As he gently passed him into Ginny's hands, Snitch purred contentedly but still looked back across at his master with a slightly puzzled expression.

Ginny giggled and touched Snitch gently on the forehead.

"Well, let's face it," said Harry, slightly apologetically. "He gets on much better with you. I'm sure Hagrid won't mind."

Ginny looked back at Harry.

"I don't think so, Harry. Look at him. He misses you already. Why don't we both take care of him?" she asked, as Harry seemed about to object. "After all, we won't be far apart now, will we?"

Harry smiled as a sudden flush came into his own cheeks. He shook his head.

"I hope not."

And then quite suddenly Harry's smile faded and he seemed to be lost in other thoughts.

Ginny reached over and touched his forearm.

"Harry?" she said gently.

"Sorry," he said, looking up at her again. "I was lost in thought."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, too, you know that, don't you?"

"It's not that I don't want to share my feelings," he replied, looking back up at her. "It's just that I'm afraid that if I do, all of the things I try to forget will just seem more real again."

"What things?"

"Well, you know, like Sirius – and, well, I can't stop thinking about what Ron said down in that bathroom."

"Did he apologize?"

Harry nodded but a frown fell over his face again. "Yeah, but…." His voice trailed off again.

"But what?"

"I haven't forgiven him yet," Harry mumbled.

"And are you going to?" Ginny asked very quietly.

Harry looked up at her. "I will, yeah, for your sake, Ginny."

Ginny shook her head vigorously.

"No, Harry, no! I don't want you to do it for me! If you're mad at each other for the rest of your lives, I won't care! But I do hope you'll forgive him – for your sake."

"I just wish I knew whether he meant those things he said to me."

"Well, what if he did?"

Harry's eyes filled with sudden alarm. "Are you saying….?"

Ginny drew her arms around his waist and touched her forehead to his.

"Harry, listen to me. There's nothing you could have done," she said quietly, her voice suddenly sounding like a song coming from inside Harry's head. "Voldemort tricked you but what's done is done. Whatever Ron meant or didn't mean, it won't change that. But I know one thing: I know Sirius wouldn't have wanted to you to lose a friendship over something that couldn't be changed."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment but then he nodded very slowly.

"It's over now," Ginny added. "I love you, Harry. I don't want you to feel so much pain. Can you accept that?"

Harry looked back into Ginny's eyes for a moment, eyes he now knew were windows into a universe almost frightening in its depth. Then he slowly nodded.

"I can, I think," he said. "I'll try at least."

Ginny nodded, rocking Harry's own forehead as she moved hers up and down. Harry reached up and touched the side of her cheek.

"I feel bad for you, too, Ginny. I'm sorry Dumbledore made you suffer so much and that he didn't kill Voldemort for you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Harry," said Ginny without flinching. "You weren't able to. One day you will be. And Dumbledore gave you that chance. He couldn't have done any differently."

"Yeah," said Harry reluctantly. "I suppose so. I'm not sorry you kicked him in the balls, though."

Ginny threw back her head and laughed. And after a few moments, Harry laughed, too.

"So out with it, Potter," Ginny said finally, putting her hands on her hips. "What's in the box?"

"What? Oh!"

Harry looked down at the package beside him. He handed it to Ginny.

"Happy Birthday."

"But my birthday's not till next week, Harry!"

"It might rain then, though. And Fred and George will come down."

Ginny smirked.

"You're learning, Harry."

She took out her wand and touched it to the top of the box.

The ribbon that had tied the package neatly together dissolved and the box sprang open like an egg to reveal a box made of a strange white substance that was very light but still quite firm. Ginny scratched her nail cautiously on the outside and a few small round white balls came away in her hand.

"It's called Styrofoam," explained Harry.

"What do I do with it?" asked Ginny curiously.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Nothing, actually. It's just covering what's inside."

With even greater curiosity, Ginny discovered that the Styrofoam came apart in two identical shells. Inside was a round metal cylinder.

"What do I do with this?" Ginny asked.

"You open it. Here."

Harry took the cylinder from her, pressed the button on the outside and a sort of little door sprang open.

"It's a box," Ginny decided. "But I don't think anything will fit inside. Unless you enchanted it, of course."

Harry shook his head and smiled.

"It's a portable CD player. Here."

He reached into the package and pulled a thin square object. It, too, opened up and revealed a round metal disc that shone in the sunlight.

"It's a sun catcher," said Ginny, taking it from him.

"It's a CD," said Harry.

He took the disc back from Ginny and put it into the player. He then took out a pair of ear muffs from the package attached to a long cord. He plugged one end of the cord into the player and put the ear muffs on top of Ginny's head.

"I don't want to wear these in the summer."

Harry held up a finger.

"Just listen," he said.

Harry smiled as Ginny's eyes widened. She suddenly took the ear muffs off.

"It's the Weird Sisters," she said. "I can hear them in my head. But how? It must be enchanted."

Harry shook his head.

"I can't explain it but it's not. The song is recorded somehow in the CD – the sun catcher if you like. I enchanted it to give it power but other than that…."

Ginny shook her head in amazement.

"That's spiffing! But how did Muggles get wizard music?"

Harry smiled.

"Professor Lupin said that some wizards and witches live in Muggle areas so they can't do the song spells and potions but they can go to buy the CDs."

"But don't Muggles find it suspicious when there are wizard CDs in their shops?"

Harry looked at the cover of the CD which bore a bright pink sticker with the words:

TOWER RECORDS  
DISCOUNT  
£7.99

"I suppose not," he replied. "They have enormous shops and lots of people work there. They don't take much notice. If they find a CD that wasn't there before, they just assume that someone else put it there and don't think any more of it."

Ginny shook her head.

"I can never understand Muggles," she declared, looking down at the CD player. "They can make something so brilliant, really much better than all of our awkward song spells and potions, but they're also so easy to trick. It seems they'll believe almost anything."

Harry nodded.

"That's because it's much easier to believe a simple lie than accept a complicated truth. Believe me, I know from my aunt and uncle. And it was like that for me at first. I couldn't believe there was magic even when I was doing it all the time. No one would dare think any different because everyone would laugh at them just like that man we met at the train station."

Ginny nodded slowly. She reached over and pressed the button she had seen Harry touch on the top of the CD player. She could see from a window the CD spinning around in its box and the sounds of the Weird Sisters filled her head again.

"I wish you could listen, too," she said to Harry. "It's beautiful."

Harry smiled.

"I can."

He reached into the box and pulled out another set of ear muffs. He put them on his head and plugged the lead into another hole in the box. Then he laid down onto the blanket and shifted so that Ginny could rest her head on his chest. As the Weird Sisters started up their melodious chorus again, Harry began to sing. The sound traveled up through his chest and tickled Ginny's ear where she lay. Then she joined in as well.

"I'm confounded by your love;  
it fills me every day;  
it must just be your magic spell;  
there is no other way.

"I haven't seen your potion;  
I didn't spot your charm;  
But this feeling that's inside me now;  
I know I'll feel no harm.

"I'm confounded by your love;  
it melts away my fears;  
I'm riding on my broomstick now  
Away from all my tears."

"You say you've put away your wand,  
you've no spell left to hide;  
Does this mean that my love for you  
Is what I feel inside?

"I'm confounded by your love;  
it fills me every day;  
it must just be your magic spell;  
there is no other way."

Harry had started into the next two songs before he became aware that Ginny was no longer singing. He looked down at her and saw that she was softly inhaling and exhaling with the rise and fall of her chest and that her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep. Being careful not to arouse her again, Harry slowly reached over and turned off the CD player. He gently moved her into a more comfortable position on his chest and held her tightly to him. But Harry did not sleep himself. He continued to watch Ginny's lineless face as she slept. She did not twitch in the nervous way she had when he had watched her that night in the common room when Voldemort had entered her thoughts. The only expression that Ginny wore now was a strangely all-knowing smile. Harry had almost finished counting her freckles when her eyes came slowly open. She looked at him for a moment, still confused with the disorientation of sleep and then smiled more fully when she realized where she was and whom she was with.

"Do I bore you?" asked Harry.

Ginny stretched and yawned as she shook her head.

"I'm just relaxed."

"Any nightmares?"

Ginny shook her head smiling.

"Never with you."

Ginny stood up and reached out her arms to pull Harry with her.

"Come on," she said, running her hand along the side of his face as Snitch made a curious noise in the background. "There's still lots more to show you."

Ginny and Harry quickly used magic to gather up their belongings and continued their walk along the edge of the forest that divided them from the Muggle world. Ginny led Harry confidently around well-worn trails as the sun began its slow descent in the summer sky. Harry had always thought of England as a crowded place and marveled that there seemed to be so much wild land in the area around the Burrow. Every now and then they would come across another oddly-shaped house and Harry would know before Ginny told him that it belonged to another wizarding family. As the afternoon wore on, they circled a ring of pine trees rising in a steep slope around an ancient looking lake. It was difficult for Harry to imagine they were still in England. He wondered how all of this scenery could escape Muggle eyes. Perhaps it was enchanted so they really couldn't see or perhaps they were always just too busy to notice.

At last, they reached the end of the lake and came over a ridge. Ginny pointed out the misshapen form of the Burrow not far below them. But before they descended the slope to return to the house, she guided Harry to small patch of grass under a young-looking tree whose branches were just long enough to shade them from the strong late afternoon sun. Ginny conjured a flask of lemon squash and two glasses and poured out a drink for herself and Harry. Snitch jumped out of the waist pocket of Ginny's dress and landed on top of the flask making a sharp hooting sound. Ginny conjured a very tiny cup and gently fed some of the lemon squash to Snitch while stroking the top of his head with her finger.

"We can rest here," she said to Harry. She patted the trunk of the tree. "My parents planted this tree the year I was born. They planted a tree for each of my brothers as well. It was one of my best friends when I was growing up. Now I think it's grown a bit more than I have."

Harry still didn't know quite what to say. He was still busy taking in his surroundings. He realized how much he still didn't know about ordinary wizard life, having spent most of the days since he had first found out he was a wizard in Hogwarts and its surrounding area. He still had so many questions to ask Ginny he didn't know where to begin but before he could form any of them, he became aware that Ginny was speaking to him again.

"Harry," she said, looking a little serious. "There's something else I wanted to tell you."

Harry looked at her in surprise, wondering what more Ginny could have left unsaid.

"I – I want to thank you," Ginny went on, "for saving my life."

Harry sighed and smiled.

"You saved my life, too, Ginny," he replied gently.

"No, I don't mean just now in that room. I mean that, too, of course, but I wanted to thank you for saving my life in the Chamber of Secrets. You could have died down there. You very nearly did, I know that. And," Ginny looked down at the ground, "even with everything that's happened to us lately, both the good and the bad, I still don't think I've ever felt as relieved as I did that moment that I woke up and saw you there. B – but I could never tell you that. I – I was afraid it would just be too much for me – for both of us, maybe."

Ginny paused and sighed softly.

"And I know I could never have faced him again without you," she added. "You're everything he is not."

Harry moved closer to her.

"The reward was all mine," he said quietly. "But you faced Voldemort all by yourself. I was just there to catch you. I want to thank you, too, Ginny" he added, "not just for saving my life but for showing me that I wasn't alone."

Ginny shook her head.

"You were never alone, Harry. I'm just glad I was able to help you realize that."

Ginny and Harry stared into each other's eyes for a few moments. Then when it became clear there was nothing left for them to say that words could be used to express, they moved toward each other in a single moment. Ginny closed her eyes as she felt Harry draw his arms around her and his lips move onto hers. His tongue had just moved gently inside to touch hers when Harry suddenly drew away, spitting a stray strand of ginger-colored hair out of his mouth.

"Long hair gets in the way," said Ginny, giggling. "Maybe it would be better if I cut it."

Ginny giggled harder when she saw the mortified look on Harry's face. His horrified expression fell into a frown almost immediately as he realized he'd been had but then that thought, too, was swept from him as he sat there and listened to Ginny's infectious laughter. Once like so many things about her, it may have meant little to him, but now it seemed even more pleasing to his ears than phoenix song.

Ginny suddenly grew serious.

"I wasn't finished," she declared.

Ginny took care to keep the hair out of her face and she and Harry moved into a fast and passionate kiss. Every part of Harry seemed to reach into Ginny's body and tickle her soul. Blue sky and green earth spun around like a top as the two lovers tumbled down the hill, never once breaking their kiss. Once Ginny heard the soft sounds of moaning as she and Harry tried to reach even further into the depths of each other's passion. She didn't know whether the sound belonged to her or to Harry and found that it no longer mattered: the whole of their bond was much greater than even the sum of its parts. And just when it seemed it was no longer clear where Ginny ended and Harry began, a voice in the background rang out:

"Hey! No snogging at the Burrow!"

Harry and Ginny disentangled themselves in surprise and looked up to dizzily to see the world still spinning around them and the familiar forms of Ron and Hermione revolving with the landscape.

Once the world had settled back down, Harry could see that Ron was grinning from ear to ear, his face deeply flushed. Hermione also had a high pink color in her cheeks and rested her bushy hair against Ron's shoulder as she watched her two other best friends on the ground.

"Goddess knows it's never been done before," remarked Ginny, sitting up.

"We've been ordered to fetch you," said Ron.

Harry stood up followed by Ginny.

"Tonks has had a bit of an accident with tea," explained Hermione. "I think we're all needed to help sort things out so that we can eat some time tonight."

"You should have seen the look on Mum's face," added Ron.

Ginny and Harry smiled at one another.

"I suppose we'd better be down then," said Harry sighing. He started to walk forward when Ron's hand moved to his shoulder, stopping him.

"What?"

Harry was surprised to see that the smile Ron had worn on his face just a moment before had now vanished as he looked back between him and Ginny a little anxiously.

"Before we go in, Harry," he said seriously. "Th – there's some things that I wanted to say."

Harry eyed Ginny and Hermione a little cautiously.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," he said quietly.

"No," said Ron firmly. "I want to say this to you now while everyone's here. First, I still don't think there's anyone better for my little sister than my best friend." Ron's voice started to crack. "And secondly, Harry, I really didn't mean - "

But Harry started shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter about that now, mate. It happened and it's over. I've been thinking, too: I don't think we fought for each other's lives down there in that room just to give up our friendship over a few angry words."

Ron's face started to crease up. "Harry, I – "

Harry put his own hand on Ron's shoulder. He had heard enough. He didn't want Ron to embarrass himself, even in front of his closest friends.

"It's all right, mate," he said. "I know. Don't worry. We're okay, now."

Ron's face broke into a sheepish grin even as looked to be swallowing a lump in his throat with some difficulty. Hermione took hold of his hand as Ginny clutched Harry's. The four friends made their way down the hill, Ron taking his sister's other hand in the middle. As they drew closer, Ron was quick to point out the voluminous smoke coming from the front of the house where Tonks' outdoor cooking had taken a turn for the worse. But none of them seemed to mind this too much. Their quick and happy conversation seemed to blend in with the buzzing of insects and the songs of the birds around them.

And the sounds of the Burrow were filled once again with the laughter of children.

A/n And until the next story, I must say goodbye and hope you enjoyed Silent Siege!


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